Heart
by RainFlame
Summary: After Ed is injured searching for the Stone, Roy is convinced that he and Al need some downtime. Hughes gets wind of this and insists that they go camping, but nothing is ever easy, and a relaxing weekend in nature soon turns into a fight for their lives. Parental!Roy. Rating for violence and injury, just to be safe. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

Roy Mustang had been looking forward to a quiet day.

Roy Mustang should have known better.

It started off innocently enough, with the usual mounds of paperwork, but not much else. His office had been quiet, with only Hawkeye poking her head in every once in a while to make sure he wasn't asleep. He had no debriefings scheduled, no meetings or appointments to attend to. He even briefly entertained the notion of clocking out early.

Until he got the phone call from the military hospital.

It seemed a certain blond haired-alchemist under his command had been admitted a couple of hours ago with a knife wound.

Blond and in the hospital. Roy had no trouble guessing who _that_ might be.

That in itself didn't necessarily warrant a phone call, since the wound wasn't life-threatening and it was only going to be an overnight stay. It was only that the boy was demanding to be released, and since he wasn't an adult, he had to have a guardian's signature. As a child with no parents, that particular joy fell on the shoulders of his superior officer.

The request was also followed by a , "please hurry," as it seemed Fullmetal was being his normal, ill-tempered self about the whole thing. The doctor on the phone explained that they already had a nurse take the day off, and two more crying in the break room.

A quiet day, indeed.

When Roy arrived at the hospital, he was greeted by a young, frazzled nurse he vaguely remembered from the last time he had been hospitalized. She was really very pretty, even if a little flustered, but much to his chagrin, he was given no time to flirt; she demanded his identification, then latched onto him and dragged him down the hallway. He quickly discovered what the rush was about.

_"I'M NOT TAKING ANY MORE OF THAT CRAP_!" a familiar voice howled from somewhere down the hall, loud enough to wake the emperor of Xing.

_"Brother, please—"_

_"KEEP THAT NEEDLE AWAY FROM ME!" _A crash emanated from the same relative location. _"GET OUT OF HERE!"_

_"Brother!"_

_"AND DON"T COME BACK WITHOUT THAT SORRY COLONEL!"_

A young, panicked doctor Roy had never seen before quickly backed out of the room in question and shut the door behind him, muffling another clatter that sounded suspiciously like something metal striking the door. He turned wide eyes on Mustang and Roy thought he might melt to the floor in relief. "Colonel Mustang?" he asked hopefully.

Roy couldn't stop the sigh that escaped him. "Unfortunately. Report."

The young doctor fumbled to put a syringe away in his pocket, then lifted his clipboard with shaking hands to read off the most recent of Edward's mishaps. "Major Elric was admitted with a stab wound that cut into his left pectoralis major— uh, that is, the left side of his chest, sir— this morning at ten fifteen a.m. The wound itself is approximately four days old, and it wasn't deep, but his brother was concerned about it and brought him in. There was some infection, and if left untreated, could have caused a lot of problems, but we treated it. He's, uh, refusing painkillers right now, though . . ."

There was another resounding crash from inside, followed by muffled cursing and Al's scolding.

"You don't say," Roy commented dryly. "Thank you, Doctor. That will be all."

The doctor babbled his gratitude before retreating down the hall. Roy noticed that the nurse that had escorted him had already disappeared.

Roy steeled himself as the last of his "quiet day" died a silent, miserable death and opened the door.

The tiny hospital room was brightly lit, but Ed's temper had marred any happiness the sunshine might have provided. There was a tense, dark sort of energy in the air that, on an instinctive level, Roy did not feel comfortable walking into without backup. Nevertheless, Roy stepped over a bedpan and several other objects strewn across the floor and deeper into the room.

Alphonse stood up as soon as he saw Roy, and though he was an expressionless suit of armor, Roy was almost certain he could see the boy's apprehension written all over his face. "Colonel! We're glad you're here!" he said, sounding anything but glad, glancing pointedly at his older brother behind him.

Silently warning Roy that he was about to step on a landmine of teenage emotion.

Edward was sitting at the edge of the bed in hospital shorts, arms crossed to protect his linen-wrapped chest and his automail foot suspiciously close to a dented, overturned cart. A scowl was firmly planted on his face, but something changed when he laid eyes on Roy.

He wasn't entirely sure what he was expecting, but he wasn't expecting the look on Edward's face.

The kid looked completely relieved.

"Finally," he huffed, trying to keep his temper in place and failing. "What took you so long?!"

Roy found the strange mood shift odd, but chose to ignore it for now. "Some of us actually have responsibilities, Fullmetal," he commented off-handedly, seating himself on an uncomfortable plastic chair next to the bedside. Al lowered himself hesitantly onto the one beside him. Roy sensed his tension like a dam about to burst. It made Roy even more nervous. "Last I saw you, you both were on your way to the Drachma border following a lead on the Stone. What happened?"

Ed didn't look pleased with the question. "The stupid train got hijacked and one of the nutcases stabbed me," Ed groused, as if it had been more of an inconvenience rather than an attempt to end his life. Roy found his flippant attitude unsettling. Did the kid not have any regard for his own existence?

That was a stupid question. Edward Elric only cared for his life as far as it impacted that of his little brother. Al came first and foremost in his mind, and Roy knew good and well that when the Philosopher's Stone got involved, Ed got reckless.

When Roy had first gotten wind of rumors of 'red stones' near the Drachma border, he had been hesitant to offer the information to the boys. The lead itself was pretty strong, but he wasn't comfortable sending a couple of kids by themselves to an area that was so dangerous. Amestris had always had a strained relationship with their neighbor, and border towns were simply unsafe, regardless of their defenses in the North.

Despite his better judgment though, he had passed along the lead to the brothers anyway, which they eagerly left to follow on the morning train. That had been almost a week ago, and they hadn't been due back for at least another two weeks.

He really should have known better.

Ed massaged his flesh shoulder with his metal hand. "The _shot_ hurt worse than the _knife_!" he complained, giving Al a sullen glare.

Al raised his hands in a defensive gesture. "It was infected! You knew they would have to give you a shot!"

"Which was why I didn't want to go in the first place!" he huffed, then turned to the Colonel. "Did you sign those papers yet?"

Roy crossed his arms. "No. Nor am I going to."

Any relief, any happiness Ed had exuded about Roy's presence evaporated in that split second. It was as if all his emotion simply disappeared as he struggled to process Roy's response. It was the calm before the storm, and Roy was gearing himself for a monsoon. "What?" Ed asked, his voice far too casual to be trustworthy.

"You heard me," Roy said, leaning back. "You don't quite seem to appreciate that you were almost _killed_, Fullmetal. Maybe some time in the hospital is just what you need. And some leave, after that."

Ed processed this over a slow, tense moment, several micro expressions flitting across his face.

For a split second, Roy almost thought he saw complete and utter betrayal in the boy's eyes, as if Roy had been the one that had stabbed him. It was gone before Roy could be sure though, replaced by a slowly building anger.

Al gave Roy a nervous glance, while Roy himself was counting down to the explosion.

Three.

Two.

One.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU"RE NOT GOING TO SIGN THE PAPERS?!" Ed screeched, his automail foot lashing out to deal another devastating blow to the abused cart. It skidded across the floor and put a sizable gash in the wall.

Roy kept his level gaze trained on the young alchemist as if he were a rabid animal Roy was trying to talk out of biting him. Sometimes, that was exactly how the brat acted. "Just what I said," he said, struggling to keep his own temper in check. "You're staying overnight, and after that, you're going back to Resembool for two weeks."

"I have a better idea!"

All three visibly flinched at the tenor voice that sailed into the room and forcibly dissipated the tension with its oppressive cheer.

"Oh, Mr. Hughes! How nice of you to come by!" Al said, obviously very much relieved.

"Go away," Ed and Roy growled in unison.

"Uh uh, that's no way to treat a friend!" Hughes chastised lightly, waltzing up to Ed and patting him on the back. "And look what my dear, sweet, thoughtful Gracia made for you!" The Lieutenant Colonel thrust a bag of cookies under the blond's nose, and though it didn't help Roy's mood, Ed's improved considerably. He took the bag with a proffered "Thanks," and dove in, shoving two in his mouth at once.

"So, I couldn't help but overhear that you have some leave coming up, Edward," Hughes said, seating himself on the bedside across from Roy with a broad smile plastered on his face.

"Not if I get any say," Ed growled around a mouthful of cookie.

"You don't," Roy assured him.

Ed's snarled reply was cut off by Hughes. "Perfect! I know just what you boys need," he said, leaning in close. "You guys need a camping trip!"

Ed and Al regarded him as if he had grown another head.

Roy tried to massage away the headache that suddenly cropped up.

"Come on, it would be fun!" Hughes insisted, not the least bit deterred by their lack of enthusiasm. "Just you boys, me and Roy here!"

Roy almost choked on the air he had been inhaling. "Excuse me? I most certainly am _not_ going on one of your inane camping trips."

"Me either," Ed voiced, stuffing another cookie into his mouth. "We don't have time for that crap."

Hughes was not dissuaded in the least. In fact, their refusals didn't seem to register at all. "It will be wonderful! Cool mountain air, lovely scenery, just man and nature! And we won't have any of that freak alchemy stuff, either. We'll do things how they were meant to be done, and really connect with nature!"

Ed stared at him vacantly. "Did you hit your head on a rock?"

Roy gave a tortured sigh. "Hughes, the last time you went on a camping trip, you fell into a gorge and broke your leg."

"Which is exactly why you guys should come along," Maes insisted, wrapping an arm around a very unimpressed Ed. "Gracia says she doesn't like me going out there alone, and I can't say no to my Gracia!"

"So you're only inviting us because you want to make Gracia happy," Roy said, standing up.

"Of course not! Who would I rather spend a long weekend with than you guys?"

"Gracia and Elicia," Ed pointed out indifferently, already making headway on his seventh cookie.

"Gracia doesn't like camping," Hughes informed sadly.

Roy smirked, already heading for the door. "Tell you what, Maes. If you can convince Fullmetal to go, I'll go." And since the odds of Ed ever agreeing to something as frivolous as a camping trip were slim to none, Roy could safely say he was not going. He didn't have the time for a silly camping trip.

"Not happening," Ed growled.

"It's a deal!" Hughes called after him.

"Hey!" Ed protested at Roy's retreating back. "Don't leave him here with us!"

Roy ignored him and shut the door.

He massaged his temple as he walked away. He couldn't get that image out of his head, the expression on Ed's face right before he covered it with his temper. Roy should have stayed, gotten the whole story, but with Hughes in there, he wouldn't get very much out of the kid. He wondered if there was more to this injury than what Ed was conveying, at least on an emotional level.

The kid really could use a vacation.

But it certainly wasn't going to be with Roy.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Ed was trying valiantly to focus on the theory book in his lap. The lights in his hospital room had been dimmed for the night, but his tumultuous mind would not hear of sleep, so he had turned to the book Al had left on the bedside table to sooth the overwhelming sense of guilt that had hounded him all week.

He couldn't stop thinking of how he had failed.

"Brother?"

Ed glanced up to see Al's worried gaze on him from his seat on the floor. He had been in one of his meditations that passed for sleep, but now he was alert and looking at him questioningly. Al was always so concerned for him, so forgiving, even after knowing how much he screwed up . . .

"Can you not sleep? Does it hurt or something?"

"Nah, Al. It's fine," Ed waved him off. "Just wanted to check out this book you were reading."

Al didn't look convinced. "If you want, I can go find a nurse. I'm sure they can give you something—"

Ed scowled. "Yeah, more shots. It's fine, Al, it really doesn't hurt any more. I'll go to sleep soon."

Though he didn't seem to buy it, he dropped the issue without complaint. Ed went back to the book in his hands, but moments later, he could sense Al's eyes on him. He could almost hear Al's conflicting thoughts, warring over if he should say something or not. Al worried about stupid things like that. It was so distracting that Ed couldn't concentrate on the next sentence of the book. With a sigh, he put the tome aside and leaned back into his pillows. "What is it?" he demanded.

Al jumped. "Well . . . I was thinking about what Mr. Hughes was saying . . . about going camping . . ."

Ed studied his little brother, curiosity piqued. "What about it?"

Al averted his gaze, staring down to his lap as his hands fumbled nervously with his loincloth. "Well, do you think we could?"

Al wanted to go camping?

Under any other circumstance, he would have given Al a very firm, "no." They didn't have time for stupid things like camping trips and vacations. They had to find the Philosopher's Stone, so that Ed could fix Al and try to put their lives back in order.

But that was also the very reason that Ed couldn't refuse him.

The lead in Drachma had been so promising; Ed had been so close that he could taste their victory, their success. He was certain that before the month was out, Al would have his body back. He had even told Al as much, and Al had sounded hopeful and heartbreakingly optimistic.

And then Ed went and got himself stabbed, just when their salvation was so close. They had been on the train that was to take them to the very town where the Stone was rumored to be. Ed's injury had set them back, and by the time they had gotten there, the merchant that had been sighted with the Stone had vanished, only hours previous. There was no trail, no sign of him or his destination. In that single stroke, Ed had let the Stone and Al's chance at a human body disappear once again.

And all Al wanted was to go on a camping trip, like they used to go on when they were little.

Ed had robbed Al of his childhood. How could he possibly refuse him this? That was the least of what he owed him.

Ed offered Al a small smile that he hoped didn't look as broken as it felt. "Sure, Al."

Al's soul-fire eyes lit up, and Ed tried not to feel too relieved. He deserved to suffer Al's hatred, after all.

"You mean it?!" Al asked, voice quivering with joy.

Ed smirked. "Of course I mean it. If you want to go, we'll go."

Al let out a joyous whoop, the sound of his happiness like a balm to Ed's guilt, and despite how much he wanted to hold on to his self-loathing, it dulled and quieted until there was some semblance of peace in his heart.

He and Al spent the rest of the night recounting memories of camping with the Rockbells and Ed listened to Al talk until he finally dozed off into a fitful sleep sometime in the early morning, hoping stupidly that he had somehow done right by Al this time, done something to help atone for his sins.

It was enough to sleep.

Not quite enough to keep the nightmares away.

* * *

_This got long for a first chapter. For me, anyways xD_

_I don't know why, but I found the thought of Roy and Ed camping too hilarious to pass up. And then, naturally, it got infused with angst and parental Roy Ed, and it was too late to stop it . . ._

_Now I have to write it xD It's already outlined and stuff, so hopefully updates will be regular. I won't even pretend to predict how long this is going to be. Probably a bit longer than _Whiteout_, but not as long as some of my other fics. We shall see C:_

_Drop a review, if you'd like! I love hearing from you guys, and I'll try to be much more prompt in responding to them this time lol xD_

_God Bless,_

_-RainFlame_


	2. Chapter 2

"Alright, men!" Hughes announced. "We camp here!"

Ed surveyed the lakeside clearing, eyes sweeping over to take in everything. They had taken a train east to New Optain, and from there, hiked into the mountain ranges east of the city. The forest here was nothing special, as far as Ed could tell. There were tall trees, a thick carpet of leaves and pine needles over the floor, and a mountain lake that stretched out before them. It sort of reminded Ed of the island Izumi had dumped him and Al on just a few years ago.

Except for the additional company, that is.

"Now isn't this just great?" Hughes was asking, dropping his pack next to a boulder. "All this fresh air and sunshine, and a gorgeous lake! It doesn't get any better than this!"

Ed massaged a dull ache in his shoulder port and turned his gaze to the sky that was slowly starting to cloud over. "Until it rains," he muttered.

Mustang trudged up beside him, expression dark. "Of course it's going to rain," he muttered.

"Which will render you completely useless," Ed smirked.

Mustang scowled at him. He hadn't taken the news that Ed had agreed to the camping trip very well. If Havoc was to be believed, every trashcan in the office had mysteriously combusted moments after Hughes had called him with the news.

"But it's nice right now," Alphonse said, ever the optimistic one. Ed didn't bother to point out that Al could say that no matter what the weather. A little rain didn't bother him. Well, unless he rusted.

"Yes," Ed agreed. "Until it rains."

"Brother, don't be so negative," Al scolded.

Ed shut his mouth to better keep his mood to himself. He wasn't here to complain. He was here for Al, and he wasn't going to ruin his little brother's good time with his whining.

Well, with _too_ much whining, anyways.

"Now, now, we don't have anything to worry about!" Hughes said, upturning his pack in the sand and undoing the clasps. "We just have to set up the tent, then we'll be completely safe from the elements!"

With a weary sigh, Ed set about unpacking supplies. He and Al pitched one of the tents while Mustang and Hughes secured their food stash and set up other necessities.

"Are you glad we came, Brother?"

Ed glanced up at his sibling as he drove another stake into the ground with his metal fist. Al wasn't looking at him, rather keeping his gaze trained on the rope he was tying down. Ed forced a smile to his face anyways. "Of course I'm glad, Al! Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know," he said quietly, voice ringing with guilt. "I made you come all the way out here after you got stabbed . . .I mean, doesn't it hurt?"

Why couldn't Al be selfish? Just once? "It's fine, Al. I've got those painkillers—"

"Which you won't take."

"—and besides," Ed said over him, "this is better than going back to Resembool. You know what Winry would do if she found out I got hurt . . . again."

The thought seemed to cheer Al the same way it filled Ed with dread. "She'd probably take a spanner to your head."

"The stupid gearhead. She's always so violent."

"Look who's talking."

"Shut up, Al."

He was suddenly aware of something flying past the corner of his vision. It was silver and thin and triggered a desperate fight-or-flight response in him that overrode any semblance of reason.

His left arm shot over his right, alchemizing a blade from the automail. He spun sharply, raising his weapon to intercept the projectile.

It bounced off harmlessly and landed in the sand.

Ed stared at it uncomprehendingly, his heart still racing and blood singing in his ears.

A . . . Frisbee?

"What . . .?" Ed asked, unable to tear his eyes from the disc at his feet.

Hughes regarded Ed as if he were a particularly slow child. "It's a Frisbee, Ed. You throw it."

The blond scowled. "I _know_ it's a Frisbee! Why are you throwing it at me?!"

"Because it's a Frisbee . . ."

Ed let his glare respond for him.

"Well, I wouldn't have thrown it if I had known the incident would be so traumatizing," Hughes chortled. "Come on, Ed, throw it back!"

"Oh, I'm going to throw it back," Ed snarled, yanking it up from the dirt, hauling back and hurling it for all he was worth.

The toy scythed through the air like a throwing star, splicing air particles as it spun a dangerous arc for Hughes' head. The Lieutenant Colonel let out an undignified yelp and ducked, allowing the disc to skate on by.

And into Mustang's head.

"HA!" Ed crowed at the unexpected victory. "Take that, you lazy jerk!"

Al and Hughes took a slow, deliberate step back.

Mustang's expression was dangerously blank as he regarded the Frisbee at his feet. He stared at it for an uncomfortable amount of time, making Ed just a little bit nervous. He could feel a bead of sweat form and run down the side of his face.

"Fullmetal," Mustang said, voice as cool and level as if he were commenting on the weather. Nevertheless, Ed jumped. Dark eyes snapped up to meet his. "You have three seconds to run."

Ed didn't think twice.

He ran.

* * *

Roy slouched down in the sand, bruised and panting and tired.

Dead tired.

It was twilight now, light enough to see, but too dark to keep up their "game." The wind off the lake had picked up as well, carrying the dreaded scent of rain and assuring the campers that a mountain storm was on its way. The "game" of Frisbee had lasted the better part of an hour and consisted mostly of Roy and Ed trying to take off one another's heads, with Hughes and Al running interference.

If he were less bruised, he might even venture to say that it had all been fun.

Ed plopped down in the sand across from him, panting and chugging greedily from a canteen. He put the container aside and offered Roy a triumphant grin. "I won," he gloated, beaming as if he had achieved some kind of major feat.

"You had an unfair advantage," Roy huffed. "You're short enough to get under my defenses."

"I'M NOT SHORT!"

Roy smirked. He may have lost the game, but that didn't mean he had to accept defeat gracefully. Besides, Ed was a notorious cheater, and the whole event had been full of his trademark cheap shots. Most of those had been along the lines of alchemy, which Hughes had already declared illegal for the duration of their trip. The boy had played the game with vicious intensity, and with his usual scowl and bad temper (when he wasn't too busy rubbing in his small, victories, that is), but if Roy were willing to guess, he'd say the blond had had as much fun as any of them.

As Roy studied the boy across from him, he had the sudden realization that this was possibly the first time he had ever seen the Elrics act like kids.

Well, yes, Ed did tend to act like a childish brat when it suited him, but there was always something so heart achingly grown-up about him; a world-weary, cynical look in his eyes that reminded Roy of someone thrice his age. Somehow Al had retained a spark of childish wonder, but it seemed like the world had beaten it out of Ed.

But maybe not entirely. Maybe they had all just captured a glimpse of it . . .

"What are you staring at?" Ed growled, jerking Roy from his musings.

Roy covered for himself quickly, offering a sly smile. "Just thinking about the game and how effective, yet _concise_ your strategy was."

"YOU'RE CALLING ME SHORT AGAIN, AREN'T YOU?!"

"Where's Alphonse?" Hughes panted, tromping over to sit with them around the designated fire pit.

Ed turned to favor him with his ill-tempered scowl. "He said that since he's the only one not out of breath, he's going to find firewood before it rains," he said, leaning back to lie in the sand. Roy watched as his real hand wandered up to massage his chest.

"Does it hurt?" Hughes asked, taking the words right out of Roy's mouth.

Ed frowned and quickly dropped his hand to the side. "No," he lied.

"Where are your painkillers?" Hughes asked.

"Why don't you mind your own business?"

"Take one," Roy said. If Ed had it his way, he'd be halfway dead before he took the pills. Roy could empathize with him; medication like that usually knocked him for a loop and made the day a fog, but it was stupid for Ed to be in pain when it could be prevented.

"It's none of your business if I take the stupid pills or not!" Ed howled.

"I can make it an order if you'd like," Roy offered smoothly.

Ed mustered up his best glare, which admittedly was rather impressive, and got to his feet. He made a show of grabbing the small bag he and Al shared, reaching inside and pulling out a prescription bottle. With enough force to crack the plastic, he wrenched the lid off with his automail and grudgingly fished a pill out and swallowed it dry. "You old coots happy now?" he demanded scathingly.

"Yep!" Hughes grinned.

"Thrilled," Roy assured him, letting the insult slide.

Alphonse appeared out of the forest, carrying a load of timber in his arms. "Got the firewood!" he called cheerily.

Roy noted that Ed was quick to hide the bottle from his little brother, planting an innocent look on his face as he did.

Al set about piling the wood on the sand. He stacked it like someone who had done this many times before, strategically placing each piece so that the whole thing would combust easily.

Roy pulled an ignition glove out of his pocket and started tugging it onto his hand.

"Oh no you don't!" Maes said, snatching it away before Roy could stop him.

Roy blinked at him. "Excuse me?"

"No alchemy, remember?" Hughes sing-songed, stuffing the glove into his pocket. "I didn't invite you guys here for a freak show."

Roy glared at him. "Then how do you suggest we start a fire?"

"The old fashioned way, of course!" he said, plucking two sticks off the ground and waving them in Roy's face.

Roy regarded him as if he were the lowest intellectual life form on the planet. "You're _joking_. You didn't bring matches?!"

"Of course not!" he said, shoving the sticks into hands. "Since you're handy with fire, you can start it."

"Better hurry," Ed snickered. "It's going to rain, and we all know how much good you'll be to us then."

Roy swallowed the deep desire to spill blood and slid closer to the firewood. How hard could it be? He had never started a fire in this manner before, but he had an intimate knowledge of the art form. It shouldn't be all that difficult, right?

He felt everyone's eyes on him as he started rubbing the sticks together vigorously. After several minutes though, his arms were tired, the wood hadn't so much as smoked, and Ed was trying vainly to stifle his laughter.

Roy's temper reached the breaking point. He spun to face Ed, waving the sticks with vehemence. "Do _you_ want to do it?!"

Ed choked back his laughter and surprised him by taking the proffered limbs. He scooted up across from Roy and pulled out a pocket knife and got to work. Roy and Hughes watched curiously as he selected a flatter piece of wood from the pile and started making notches in it. Al moved to join him, gathering some wood shavings and nesting them together. Ed placed his plank of timber on the shreds, then grabbed a longer limb and removed a shoelace, making a sort of bow.

"I get the feeling they've done this before," Hughes commented to Roy.

"Looks like it . . ." Roy murmured.

Ed placed a stick in a depression of the flatter plank, anchoring it with a stone, then wrapped his bow around it and put a foot down on the plank. He then began sawing vigorously.

Almost immediately it began to smoke, but Ed didn't stop. He kept going until it became a smolder, and moments later, he had a collection of glowing embers.

Al took the pile of shavings in his gentle hands and held it before Ed to exhale gently on it. The shavings suddenly burst to life, illuminating their faces and making it obvious just how dark it had become.

In moments, they had a happily roaring campfire. Ed rocked back on his heels, dusting off his gloves and looking at Roy smugly.

"Well I'll be," Roy mused. "It seems you can be useful for something other than destruction after all."

"And you're still good for nothing," Ed reminded sweetly, just as the first few drops of rain started falling. He scowled up at the sky. "Come on, Al. Let's get the other tent set up."

"Um, there's only one tent," Hughes said quickly.

Ed turned to regard the only standing tent with disbelief, then turned back to Hughes. "There's no way we're all going to fit in that!"

Hughes looked sheepish. "Uh, well, I had thought we would sleep outside," he said through the steadily increasing drizzle. "The tent was more of a back-up plan, in case it rained."

"There's barely enough room for three people! There are _four_ of us! What kind of back-up plan is that?!"

"It's okay, Brother!" Al said, quick to smooth over the situation. "I can stay outside. The rain won't bother me, and I can keep the fire going."

Ed did not look happy with the circumstances at all, but after more reassurance from Al (and, Roy suspected, the haze of painkillers kicking in) he relented. After saying their goodnights, Hughes, Ed and Roy spread their bedrolls out as best they could in the small confines of the tent. Roy was crammed between Hughes and the tent wall, with Ed lying crossways above them, resting his head inches from Roy's own.

It was cramped and uncomfortable, but as the rain started to pick up outside and the wind whipped the fabric around, Roy was thankful to be warm and dry.

"This tent is pretty small," Roy mused aloud as Ed settled in above his head. "It's a good thing you're so compact, Fullmetal, or we wouldn't all fit."

"Shut your trap, Mustang," Ed growled sleepily, kicking off his boots and curling up under his military issued bedroll. "If you snore, I'm planting my automail fist in your mouth."

And on that sweet note, amidst the wind and the steady fall of rain, Roy drifted off to sleep.

* * *

After several hours of tossing and turning, Ed sat up groggily and rubbed his eyes with a flesh hand. He hated painkillers. They made him so tired, but made sleep so impossible. They _did_ help make the stab wound in his chest and even the weather-induced pains in his automail cease their throbbing, though. He guessed that was something.

But something else also made it difficult to sleep; he couldn't stop thinking of Al outside, all by himself.

Despite the daunting thought of rain and cold, Ed threw back the material of his sleeping bag, tugged his boots and coat on and quietly tiptoed past his tent-mates. He was sure that Mustang and Hughes both stirred, but apparently they classified the whisper of his passage as "not a threat" and went back to sleep.

Ed pulled the flap back and stepped out into the rain, shivering as it quickly drenched him to the bone. The lakeside had been reduced to puddles and mud; small rivulets cut through the sand, making footing tricky, and the only sound Ed could hear was the splashing of rainfall on the lake, accompanied by the quiet, faraway rumble of thunder that reverberated through the mountains.

It was almost soothing enough to make him want to try to sleep again. That, or just cold and wet enough to make him want to retreat back inside and curl up under his warm sleeping bag.

The fire was still going strong, hissing and spitting defiantly at the rain that managed to seep past the rock overhang Al had transmuted over it (without Hughes' knowledge, of course). Ed found Al under a similar structure and quickly dove under its protection, grimacing at the mud that collected on his pant legs in the process.

Al jumped in surprise. "Brother! What are you doing out here?!"

"What's it look like I'm doing?" Ed demanded, shivering violently and scooting next to sit to Al's fire-heated armor. "Getting warm."

"After getting soaked!" Al accused.

Ed ignored him, busying himself with his attempts to dry out. "Nice weather we're having," he said nonchalantly.

Al sighed. "I'm sorry, Brother. This isn't turning out like I hoped it would."

Ed frowned. "You had fun earlier, right? Then what's the problem?"

"Well, you don't look like you're having a good time . . ."

"No one looks like they're having a good time when they're drenched," Ed pointed out, wringing water from his braid.

Al made an amused sound. "Guess that's a good point."

They sat there in companionable silence for a while, just listening to the rain and enjoying each other's company. It reminded Ed of being back on the island and the many nights him and Al had spent together, alone but for each other and the sky above.

"Brother?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you . . . do you think we're ever going to find the Stone?"

Ed felt a tight clenching in his stomach. There it was, then.

It was his fault, after all.

_You deserve this._

"Brother?" Al asked, worry seeping into his voice.

Ed drew his legs up to his chest, resting his forehead on the flesh one. "Of course we will," he said, his voice soft. "I promised you. I know I screwed it up this time, but not again."

"It wasn't your fault, Brother—"

Ed ignored him. "I'll do whatever it takes to get you your body back, Al. Anything."

"Well, not anything . . ." Al corrected uneasily.

But Ed meant it. He would do anything for Al. He'd do anything to see him smile again, to watch him eat apple pie and sleep at night and to walk around like a normal kid and be happy.

Anything.

Al shifted anxiously beside him. "Brother, you know you're more important to me than my body, right?"

Slowly, Ed raised his head and gave his little brother what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "And you're more important to me than anything else. That's why I'm going to get your body back."

No matter what Al said, it was all up to him. It was all on his shoulders. He was the one that screwed up. He was the one that made the choice to bring their mother back. He was the one that only gave a leg, when Al had to give up everything.

Besides, Al couldn't do all that was necessary. He was too pure, too unblemished for the darker side of things Ed would have to deal with.

But Ed, he was tainted. He was a sinner, a monster and he would go all the way so that Al wouldn't have to.

He owed Al his life and more. There had to be some kind of Equal Exchange for him in there somewhere.

The lightning grew steadily closer, flashing across the sky and sending thunder to echo from the mountains, but the rain finally lightened and Ed was once again able to find some measure of peace with Al by his side, at least until the dawn.

Because that was when everything started to fall apart.

* * *

_Almost a cliffy . . . yet not really lol. Anyways, tough chapter to write . I don't know why. The proper way of making a campfire is complimentary of watching too much _SurvivorMan_ on Discovery channel lol._

_I'm so tired, I've stopped making sense lol. _

_Also, a shout out to the unsigned reviewers that I can't message to thank; thanks for your encouragement! I really appreciate your support :) And thanks to everyone that faved/is following this! Everyone's positive feedback is really helping me write this puppy ;)_

_So I'm going on vacation for a week (leaving in a couple of days) and the next chapter will be a little late. As such, I have a deleted scene for you in attempts to atone for it xD Hope you enjoy!_

_Drop a review, if you'd like! As always, I love hearing from all of you guys :)_

_God Bless,_

_-RainFlame_

* * *

**_Deleted Scene_**

* * *

_He would not kill Hughes._

_He would not kill Hughes._

_He would not kill Hughes._

This had been Roy's mantra for the past two hours of the car ride. The past two hours of Hughes singing children's songs at the top of his lungs in the most off-key manner imaginable.

Due to his extensive military career, and the self-control and discipline such a lifestyle had instilled in him, Roy had the necessary restraint to not horribly maim his best friend.

Ed, however, had no such inhibitions.

Ed's mood that morning had been almost, well, pleasant. He had seemed cheery enough, trading their usual insults and going the extra mile when he noticed Roy himself was not in a good mood after discovering he had been roped into the ridiculous camping trip.

Once they boarded the train for the East, though, Roy noticed the blond's disposition souring, turning even worse than his own. He became snappish and overall quite irritable, especially when not addressing Alphonse. Roy wondered if it had something to do with his wound bothering him. He had only been out of the hospital three days, and he was by no means healed yet.

But as they got off the train and piled into the rented car, Hughes had started to sing, and Ed's mood became downright hostile. Roy spent the past hour watching a vein throb in Ed's head, and his automail fist slowly clenching around the armrest in the door, tighter and tighter until the rest was a crumpled mess, and the automail issued a whine of protest.

Really, he lasted longer than Roy thought he would.

He snapped, rather spectacularly Roy might add, just as Hughes was launching into his third verse of _"The Wheels on the Bus."_

" LIEUTENANT COLONEL MAES HUGHES!" he roared, completely dislodging the armrest with a sharp _rip_. The vehicle swerved as Maes flinched violently and once corrected, the car went silent. "If I hear one more _lyric_ out of you for the rest of this trip, I will grace you with a complimentary head piercing _with my fist_!"

The rest of the ride was silent.

Roy reminded himself to pass on his gratitude later, when there was less risk of a violent death.


	3. Chapter 3

Ed woke up with his injury aching, a crick in his neck, his pants and coat tail soaking wet, and instead of breakfast, found their food stores, which had once been tied safely in the branches of a small tree, lying on the rain-soaked earth and completely ruined.

He was not a morning person to begin with, and with the hopes of breakfast lying in a puddle on the ground, he was positively livid.

"Brother . . ." Al said warningly, sensing the turn in his mood.

Ed ignored him. With the fire of his anger as fuel, he stalked over to the tent to seek retribution for his empty stomach, splashing through puddles as the sky rumbled with thunder and echoed his temper. He flung open the tent flaps to regard Hughes and Mustang, still sleeping soundly in the predawn stillness.

Completely oblivious to his starvation.

"WHO WAS THE IDIOT THAT TIED UP THE FOOD?!"

Mustang and Hughes jumped a mile high, Hughes' hand scrambling for his throwing knives, and Mustang groping for his gloves.

Perhaps it was a mistake to surprise two men that had survived one of the most bloody and traumatic wars in Amestris history over ruined food, but Ed was feeling far from rational at this point in the morning and figured that if Mustang tried to torch him, he would punch a hole in his head.

The light of recognition flared in Mustangs eyes as he was tugging a glove on his hand. All the panic drained from his features and a dark scowl took its place. "Fullmetal? _What_ in the name of all things good and holy are you _doing?" _There was an obvious threat in his voice, but that only served to annoy Ed further.

"The food!" Ed pressed. "It's on the ground, all soaking wet! We can't eat that crap!"

The anger on the Colonel's face melted into bemusement. "The food?"

"That's what I said! Keep up!"

Hughes sat up, placing his glasses on his face to regard Ed. "How'd it get down there?"

"_You_ tell _me!" _he growled. "You were the two morons that tied it up!"

Mustang sighed and got to his feet. "I'm sure there's something salvageable," he said, tugging on his boots and stepping past Ed into the morning.

Ed crossed his arms and glared as Mustang, and soon Hughes, rifled through the mess. They eventually turned up two cans of chili, a sealed bag of peanuts, and a tin of sardines that Hughes had brought. Everything else was soaked through and completely inedible.

"I hate camping," Mustang announced, staring at the sardines forlornly. "And rain."

"Hey, this isn't a problem!" Hughes said brightly. "We'll just have to live off the land!"

Ed glared. "And how are you going to do that?"

"Fishing! That beautiful, pristine lake has been just begging us to toss in our lines!"

Mustang fixed Hughes with a glare of his own. "And did you pack fishing lines?"

Hughes' expression fell flat. "Uh, well . . ."

"This is the last time you pack," Mustang growled, throwing the sardines at Hughes' feet, where they landed in the mud with a dejected _squelch_.

"Brother and I can find breakfast," Al offered, his voice brimming with optimism. "Can't we, Brother?"

Ed's initial response would have normally been a suggestion to hike back to New Optain for breakfast, cut their losses and go back to Central, but that wasn't what Al wanted. Al wanted them to have a good time on this camping trip, so Ed was going to do his best to make it so.

Not to mention New Optain was a good six hour hike west. He would starve by then.

With a weary sigh, Ed turned away. "I guess we could probably find something in this stupid forest."

"Oh? And how are you going to do that?" Mustang asked.

Ed didn't like the challenge he heard in the Colonel's voice. "Just keep the fire going! We'll be back in an hour," he growled, snatching the bag of nuts before stalking into the forest, Al hot on his heels.

"Where should we start, Brother?" Al asked eagerly, far more excited than Ed felt.

"I dunno. I guess you go that way," he gestured to the right around the lake, "and I'll head straight ahead and we'll meet back at camp in an hour. We can make and set the traps as we go. I've seen some rabbits and squirrels around here, so hopefully it won't take too long for us to catch something. If it does, I'm going to starve to death." He tore open the bag of peanuts and handed Al a handful.

"I don't think missing breakfast is going to kill you, Ed," Al assured him, taking the nuts and putting them into his waist pouch.

"Men have died from lesser things."

"But that would be pathetic . . ."

"Aren't you supposed to be walking the other way?" Ed demanded sourly.

Al laughed. "I'll see you in an hour!"

Ed waved over his shoulder and walked deeper into the wet woods. The storm still thundered across the mountains, but Ed couldn't tell if it was coming or going. The air was thick with the smell of damp pine and rain, and a cold breeze drifted through the trees, cooling him pleasantly as he trekked along.

If he was honest with himself, he enjoyed being in the forest. It reminded him of playing in the woods behind their home in Resembool with Al and Winry. He wondered if this forest was part of the same one that ran near their home. The trees sort of looked the same, though New Optain was a fair distance north of the town.

As he traveled, he paused every once in a while to set a simple trap comprised of sticks and a large stone, with the peanuts as bait. It was a crude method, but it was the simplest of the ones he and Al had devised during their time on Izumi's island.

He was bent over on the ground, securing his fourth trap when he first started to feel uneasy. It was a slithering feeling, coiling against his stomach and raising the hairs on his neck. It felt like someone was watching him.

Ed tried to stay casual about the way he looked around, but he could feel the icy fear shooting through his veins and the sweat forming on his brow, his breathing getting more and more difficult to regulate.

It was the fear of being hunted and not knowing where the hunter was.

Ed could make out nothing in the trees, but there was plenty of brush around. There was no way he was going to see something or someone hiding in it unless it moved first.

Adrenaline was firing through his system now. With shaking hands, he placed the trap on the ground and fought down the instinct to run. He had to think rationally! If something was hunting him, he didn't want to be caught out alone, but he didn't really want to show it the way back to their camp, either.

But if he had Al, Mustang and Hughes all by his side, he could easily beat whatever it was watching him. He just needed some backup.

So, back to camp, then.

With as much calmness and composure as he could muster, Ed turned and walked back the way he had come. He kept his eyes ahead, but stared out with his peripheral vision, watching for any movement or color that would give away his hunter.

The soft footfalls were all that alerted him to the danger before a hand flashed out, making a deadly arc for his head.

* * *

Mustang sighed, long and miserably. "I hate camping, Hughes."

"You mentioned that."

"Almost as much as I hate rain."

"You mentioned that, too"

"Recently?"

"That'll be the fourth time in ten minutes," Hughes assured him cheerily, unfazed by his sour mood.

They had managed to find a few feet of twine among their supplies, and Mustang had torn apart his razor and bent the blades to make a pair of crude hooks. The sardines served as bait, but though they had put their lines in the water almost an hour ago, it seemed that the other fish liked the canned meat about as much as Roy did. That or there were no fish in this lake, which Roy was thinking a very likely possibility as well.

His stomach let out a most undignified rumble.

"This is getting us nowhere," he growled, placing his line under a rock and leaning back in the sand.

"Aw, come on, Roy! It just takes patience—"

"Which I don't have."

"And some luck."

"Which neither of us has."

"Aren't we just a ball of sunshine today," Hughes teased with a smirk. "At least the boys are having some fun, which was the point."

Mustang snorted. "Yes. Ed looked like he was having loads of fun."

"Well, except for the running out of food thing. And the tent thing," Maes amended. "But overall, I think he's actually getting a chance to unwind a bit."

"Maybe so," Mustang said, staring out at the lake. It was almost peaceful, really. The lake was quiet, spread out before them like a mirror that reflected the mountains and the cloudy skies. He thought he saw lightening flash off to the west and heard its thunder roll back to them.

Another sound reverberated through the air, and Roy almost mistook it for thunder again, but it was different, somehow. It was sharper, more focused than the familiar rumblings.

He didn't have time to ponder it, though, because Alphonse appeared in the clearing. Roy dejectedly noted that he carried no game in his hands.

"Hey, Al! Any luck?" Hughes asked, standing up and stretching.

"Not yet," the tin boy admitted, coming to stand over Roy. "I set my traps, so I just have to go check them in a little while. Has Brother made it back yet?"

Hughes shook his head. "Not yet. Wanna try your hand at fishing?"

"Sure!" Al replied enthusiastically, coming closer to sit on the sandy shore.

Hughes promptly plucked Roy's line from under the rock and handed it to the boy. "Here, you can use Roy's. He's not doing too well."

"Says the man who's caught nothing," Roy pointed out, crossing his arms.

The same strange boom sounded again, and this time, Roy knew for certain it wasn't thunder. It had come from the north, the same direction Ed and Al had walked off in.

"When did you say Fullmetal would be back?" he asked.

Al glanced over at him, his gaze becoming wary. "He should be here soon. Why?"

Roy frowned, an uneasy feeling creeping into the pit of his stomach. He got to his feet, brushing the wet sand from his trousers. "I'm going to go have a look around. It's probably nothing, but something seems . . . off."

Maes' demeanor immediately changed. The happy smile melted from his face, replaced by a cautious frown. "You think there's trouble?"

"I think there's no harm in checking. You two wait here in case Fullmetal shows up. Don't separate. I'll be back."

"I want to come with you!" Al said, rising. "If Ed's in trouble—"

"He might come back here," Roy interrupted. "And if there is trouble, he'll bring it with him. I'm going to just have a look around. I'll signal if I find anything."

Al didn't look happy, but didn't argue it further. Roy turned, pulling his jacket tighter around himself as he walked away.

"Be careful," Hughes called after him.

Ed's trail wasn't too difficult to find. Roy knew that when he wanted to, the boy could become nearly invisible, but this time he left a string of traps behind him. Roy let them and the strange noise guide him. He crept cautiously over the damp earth, trying to be as silent as possible, listening and watching as he went. The rumble came again, but this time, the ground shook, and he could hear the high whine of alchemy and a strangled cry.

_Ed._

Throwing caution to the wind, Roy hurled himself forward, running through the trees at a dead sprint. His heart pounded with fear and exertion, but he pushed ahead, almost wildly.

If anything happened to Ed . . .

He suddenly burst through the trees into a rocky clearing. About a hundred yards before him was a ledge, with the sounds of a river roaring underneath. Everything between him and the ledge was torn apart with alchemy; rocks were thrown everywhere, trees were uprooted and destroyed, stone hands and pillars erected and torn down.

And in the middle of all the destruction was a crumpled form in a red coat.

The first thing Roy noticed was that his automail leg was simply gone. Bits of metal and tubing and wire were scattered about like crude confetti, but there was nothing recognizable left. It was just gone. His coat was shredded, blood leaking from innumerable cuts and gashes and his golden eyes were staring around wildly, searching the trees, frantically looking for something.

His eyes locked on Roy's, and what little color was left in his face drained in a rush. "NO, MUSTANG, IT'S A TRAP! GET OUT OF HERE! RUN!"

Roy was only two steps into the clearing when the ground exploded underneath him.

* * *

_Whew. I'm back :D_

_Sorry for the short-ish chapter. It's also not as refined as I like, but I really wanted to get this out here, since I'm so late with the update lol. And now I have to go do art commissions, which I'm behind on now as well haha /shot/._

_Running just to catch myself here :'D_

_Anyways, hope you enjoy! Who do you think their mysterious attacker is? It's probably not too difficult to figure out . . . Reviews are appreciated and loved. They feed my muse C: I'll respond to your reviews on the last chapter tonight . . . I'm so behind lol._

_God Bless,_

_-RainFlame_


	4. Chapter 4

Roy's head was spinning and his side was on fire. Did he break a rib? He couldn't tell, but he was also having trouble telling up from down at the moment. One thought did ring clear in his mind, though:

_He was such an idiot._

The way Ed was splayed out in the middle of the clearing, immobilized and alone, just like bait. It was so _obvious_.

Fullmetal had even _pointed it out_, and he just walked into it like a complete moron.

_"Mustang!"_ Ed shouted, jolting him from his stupor. _"Get up!"_

With a grunt of pain, Roy dragged himself up from the wet ground, eyes scanning blearily for his attacker. The world was spinning too much to make out much of anything, but being caught on the ground would be a death sentence. He stumbled to his feet and yanked his gloves from his pocket.

His very _wet_ gloves.

Roy risked a glance down and saw the entire side of his clothing soaked through from the rain-sodden earth.

"I _hate_ camping," he snarled through clenched teeth, shoving them back into his pocket.

"Mustang!"

Ed was looking at him, golden eyes wide with panic. "I'm fine," Roy said, searching the area, his vertigo finally easing enough for him to see that it was just him and Ed in the clearing . "Where is he?"

Ed didn't get a chance to respond before movement flashed in the corner of Roy's eye. He dropped and rolled, somehow managing to evade the strike to his head. He got his feet underneath him and scrambled back.

Roy finally got a good look at his assailant, and once again berated himself for his stupidity. The man had a tall, strong form, dark skin, hair bleached of all its color, and red eyes brimming with hatred.

And if Roy had possessed any doubt of his attacker's identity, the slivery scar stretched across the man's face banished it completely.

Going this far East had been a mistake.

Getting two of the world's most famous alchemists away from Central and alone in the middle of the woods was a mistake.

Letting Ed out of his sight was a mistake.

Scar didn't give Roy a chance to gather himself before lunging again, lashing his tattooed arm at his chest.

Roy wheeled back, blocking the attack with a forearm and throwing a hasty punch at the Ishvalan's face. The blow didn't land, but Roy's left side flared in pain with the effort and he grimaced, backing away again. Scar pressed forward, driving him back under a steady barrage of punches and kicks.

Roy tried to get in a few hits of his own, but he was barely managing to keep that blasted tattooed arm away from him. The limb sparked red, passing much too close to Roy for his comfort. He was so busy keeping that arm at bay that he let Scar get a knee up on him.

He took the hit to the gut with a sharp exhalation. If he had possessed any air in his lungs after that, he would have screamed as he felt something break clean in his left side. Scar pivoted back and swept out the other leg, taking both of Roy's out from underneath him. He rolled back and landed in an uncoordinated heap on the floor.

Well, this was going downhill rather quickly.

Hand-to-hand combat had always been his weak spot, and though Hawkeye had drilled him on it to make up for his deficiencies, it remained a weakness. With him injured, and no chance of backup, he couldn't possibly hold his own against Scar for very long.

Actually, "holding his own" was being generous. Scar was about to punch his ticket if he didn't get creative soon . . .

The Ishvalan kicked him while he was down, setting fire to his side and he let out a pained gasp.

"MUSTANG!" Ed screamed somewhere to the side, but Roy couldn't see him for the stars in his vision. Another kick, and he was rolled over onto his back. He tried to keep rolling, but was stopped when a booted foot came down to crush his chest and a large hand grabbed his face, digging into his skin with rough fingertips.

He froze, the breath catching in his throat as he saw the tattooed arm spark, the beginnings of a transmutation.

The scarred man glared down at him, his face a hard mask through the curtain of fingers Roy stared past. "I'll give you a moment to pray for forgiveness," Scar hissed, deep voice rumbling over the thunder. "For I can't give it to you, murderous dog."

Ed was screaming something again, but Roy was immobilized, his mind scrambling for some kind of plan as he stared into the Ishvalan's red fury.

If he died here, he would never have the chance to atone for his sins. People like Scar would still be out there, broken and angry and seeking revenge for the terrible wrongs Amestris had dealt them. It wasn't that he didn't deserve to die for what he had done, but if it stopped here, he would never be able to make it right.

But the thought that made dying unbearable was that if he gave up here, Ed would die.

And he couldn't allow that to happen.

His mind was still racing for an idea when the red current sparked brighter, heat searing his face and he felt the air around him shift. A terrible despair stole over him, freezing his heart in his chest.

He was too late.

The ground beneath him tore apart, and suddenly, the pressure against his face was gone.

A fist of stone raked itself from the ground beneath him, tearing itself between him and Scar. It shot into the sky, and the ground undulated beneath him, rolling him backwards and right into Ed.

"Hold on!" Ed shouted, clamping onto Roy's shirt with an automail fist.

They didn't stop like Roy expected them to. The ground kept rolling, Ed's transmutation carrying them all the way to the ledge.

Right over the cliff.

Wind rushed past them as they fell, pushing against their bodies and ripping at their clothes as the river below rushed up to meet them. Roy didn't have much time to process the image, but he saw pointed rocks and rapids and he wasn't feeling too optimistic about surviving the encounter with the rest of his bones intact.

He grabbed Ed, pulling the boy to his chest in a protective embrace before they plunged into the icy water.

The impact almost jolted the air from his lungs, but he kept his lips sealed as they submerged into the frigid darkness, the current ripping them downstream even as they sank. Roy tried to claw his way up to the light, but Ed wasn't making an easy load.

Fullmetal's arm was dragging them down, fighting against Roy's every effort to get them to back up to the surface. Despite the murky water stinging his eyes, Roy glared down at the limb. He did not survive an encounter with Scar and a fall two hundred feet into a river, just to die because of Ed's stupid automail!

His feet touched the sandy bottom and he gathered himself, tightening his hold on Ed as he did, then launched them both upwards with everything he had.

They just managed to break through the surface, taking in a greedy breath before they were sinking again, the water tearing them downstream in its icy grip. Roy flung an arm out to grab something, anything, and his fingers dug into the boughs of a thin river plant that stretched out over the water. He pulled, trying desperately to get both of them above the surface.

Ed let go of him with one arm, reaching his automail hand up to get his own grip and almost sinking back into the water, but Roy grabbed him by the collar and hoisted him up, hoping that the spindly plant would hold their combined weight. Ed let go of Roy completely and began moving forward. He was obviously having a hard time of it, with one leg less to balance him, and the extra weight of his arm dragging him down, but he struggled forward. Roy waited until he had almost reached the shore before following, gingerly dragging his body along the abused branches.

He finally collapsed on the shore next to Ed, his legs still in the river, but he was too tired to do anything about it. He laid there and just breathed, relishing the sweet air that filled his lungs and the reassuring pain in his side that meant he was still alive.

Ed panted by his side, chest rising and falling in short gasps before he coughed, spitting water up in the rocky sand. His hacking finally eased and he rolled onto his side, golden hair plastered to his face and his eyes closed in complete exhaustion.

Roy wasn't sure how long they stayed there, and the cloudy sky wasn't giving him any hints, but he knew they had to get moving. He could feel his body temperature start to drop as the adrenaline wore off and his body started chiming in with a round of complaints.

He sat up slowly, wincing and gasping as his side flared with bright agony. As that pain passed, he turned to Ed. He still had his eyes closed, but his breathing had settled into a somewhat normal pattern. "Fullmetal?" he asked, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder.

Ed offered a groan in response.

"Are you okay?" Roy asked, squeezing the boy's arm a bit harder.

Ed cracked open an eye to regard him balefully. "I've been better," he informed shortly, slapping Roy's hand away halfheartedly and dragging himself up to a sitting position. He frowned up at the unfamiliar tree line and surrounding cliffs. "Where are we?"

"The best I can tell, we've gone downriver about half a mile. Maybe more," Roy said, looking over the kid. He looked worse for wear, even though the water had taken some of the blood off. His left eye was bruised, and though Roy didn't notice it before, it had almost swollen shut now, and there was a vicious gash across his forehead that still sent a rivulet of blood down the boy's face. Everything else was covered by his tattered clothing, though, so Roy could only guess at what other injuries he had collected.

Ed caught him looking and scowled. "I'm fine. Just a scratch," he muttered, wiping at his face with a sleeve and wincing.

"Is that what they call losing a leg?" Roy asked lightly, eying the empty port.

Ed grimaced, pulling back the muddy shreds of his pant leg to get a better look. "Winry's going to kill me," he sighed miserably.

"I think Miss Rockbell's the least of our troubles, at the moment," Roy said, leaning forward and gingerly gathering his legs underneath him. It was starting to get very cold, and if they didn't find shelter soon, Mother Nature would finish what Scar had started. Standing up was his first order of business, though, and he found that task daunting in itself.

"Where did _he_ come from, anyway?" Ed demanded grumpily, scowling at Roy like it was somehow his fault. "We're out in the middle of nowhere, for crying out loud!"

"It's not that much of a stretch, really. I don't know about you, but Hughes made it no secret around Central what we were up to this weekend. It doesn't take a genius to put the pieces together and follow us out here. It's the perfect opportunity to get a couple of the State's most famous alchemists in one fell swoop."

The anger seemed to wash away from Ed's face and something else took its place. Unease, maybe? Or something stronger. "What about Al? And Hughes? They're back their on their own!"

Roy shook his head. "Scar's after State alchemists and anyone in the way. No one's stopping him from trekking out into the woods after us, so they should be safe for now. We, on the other hand, are sitting ducks here on the bank." Roy glanced up river, trying to get a better idea of where they were. Despite how close it was to the lake, Roy doubted it fed into it, which meant if they had any hopes of getting back to the others, they would have to go back upriver, or cut back South.

Either way, they were playing a very dangerous game of cat and mouse.

"First, we need to get away from the river," Roy said decidedly. It wouldn't be any trouble at all for Scar to just run downriver to finish them off, and Roy wanted to make it a little bit harder on him than that. "We'll just have to hike back into the trees and find a place to dry out."

Ed looked down at the space where a leg should have been. "I don't think it's going to be that easy," he said pointedly. "I'll need crutches or something."

Roy had already thought of that, and his side twinged at the thought of what he was going to have to do. "We don't have time to look for something like that, at the moment. I'll just carry you until we find a place to rest."

Ed bristled at the thought. "No way! I'm not going to be carried around like a sack of potatoes by you, you worthless jerk!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Roy chided. "If anything, you'd be a sack of peas—"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SMALL?!"

"—and anyways, we don't have time to argue it. For all we know, Scar is already looking for us."

Ed looked upriver, that same strange, apprehensive expression stealing over his face. Suddenly, his cheeks flushed and the scowl returned, assuring Roy that he had come to a decision. "Fine," he relented.

Roy stepped over to the boy, grabbing his outstretched hand to get him standing. Ed swayed there dangerously while Roy turned around to hoist him on his back. Before Roy could so much as pivot, though, Ed's arms pinwheeled comically and he fell back into the rocky sand with a yelp.

"Can't you help me out just a little bit here?" Roy sighed, running a hand through his wet hair in exasperation.

Ed gave him a look that could wither. "Balancing on one leg _without_ the other leg is harder than it looks!" he informed scathingly.

Roy quirked a dubious eyebrow, but offered his hand out again. Ed gripped it again with his automail, this time applying just a bit more pressure than necessary, squeezing his fingers together in a most painful manner.

Little brat.

Roy kept the wince from his face and got the kid up again. This time, he kept a steadying hand on his arm as he turned and wrestled Ed onto his back.

Ed hooked an arm around his neck, choking Roy as he clamored on. "_Ed_," Roy gasped, trying to shift his cargo to get the pressure off his windpipe.

"Oops," Ed muttered without a trace of remorse, but he moved the arm regardless and finally situated himself on Roy's back. Honestly, he weighed a ton, and the extra pounds weren't doing Roy's side any favors.

"For a shrimp, you sure do weigh a lot," Roy growled, taking a tenuous step forward.

"_Shut up_," Ed snarled, resituating himself and making Roy wince as his leg stump dug into Roy's injured side. "It's the stupid automail."

"Really weighs you _down_, doesn't it?"

"Mustang, if you don't shut up, I'm going to strangle you!"

"If you do that, there goes your ride."

"I'd rather spend quality time with Scar than spend another minute with you, you pretentious jerk!"

"Ooooh, _pretentious_," Roy mocked with a grin. "Using awfully big words, aren't we Fullmetal? The _smaller_ words suit you better . . ."

The arm tightened around his neck.

"Okay, _okay!_" Roy choked.

* * *

_Watch as I flail through a fight scene :'D_

_I think I'm better suited for dialogue and internal scenes than action ones, but oh well xD Practice makes perfect, yes? Hopefully it was coherant? Lol xD_

_Ah, all you lovely reviewers! You guys are completely awesome! Thank you so much for your support and your feedback! And all you lurking favers and followers and readers, THANK YOU. Seriously, every one of you guys is legit. _

_That is all._

_I shall reply to all you signed reviewers tomorrow-ish. Right now, my pillow is calling my name . . ._

_God Bless,_

_-RainFlame_


	5. Chapter 5

Roy's mantra for over the past hour had been, _"Just a little farther." _

He had chanted it in his head every few minutes, willing himself to put one foot in front of the other, even when every breath hurt and his knees felt like they were about to buckle.

The first hour or so had been bearable. His side was only a dull ache that flared with every breath, and Ed's weight had been only cumbersome. He had even managed to hold a conversation for a while.

But now, his side felt like it was on fire, with every inhalation, every step sheer agony. Fullmetal's weight added onto that of his weakened body only accentuated it, and Roy was having difficulty drawing breath, much less walking.

"Colonel, I think we should stop," Ed announced, something akin to worry in his voice.

Mustang didn't even have the energy left to smirk. Fullmetal's concern was touching, but as much as Roy wanted to, something else demanded that he keep going. Perhaps it was the fear of Scar catching up, or the need to make sure Al and Hughes were okay. Maybe it was just plain stubbornness, but whatever it was, it didn't feel right to stop until he had absolutely nothing left to give.

"Mustang, if you don't stop, you're going to collapse, and if Scar shows up, there's no way I can carry you."

A valid point. And Mustang's body was begging him to stop . . .

Maybe he could allow himself some time to rest, just for a little while.

Roy practically collapsed, knees biting into the dirt and the impact jarring his side with fascinating new levels of pain. Ed slid off of his back and landed beside him with an indignant yelp while Roy struggled to catch his breath, inhaling just shallow enough as to not upset his injury.

All the walking had helped to dry out their clothes and hair somewhat, but they were still damp, and with the cloudy skies growing darker and darker, it was starting to get downright cold. Roy was alright after all the effort of hauling Ed around the forest, but soon even that small comfort would be gone. He was sure Ed had to be freezing, though.

He became faintly aware of Ed grumbling under his breath, "Stupid, stubborn, self-righteous—"

"What?" Roy gasped in irritation, cradling his side. It felt like what was left of his rib was trying to drill its way out of his body.

"Nothing," Ed muttered, rolling gingerly into a sitting position. He turned sharp golden eyes on Roy, one gleaming brightly against the bruising of his black eye. Actually, they were both exceptionally bright, which was odd. "You going to make it? Because I'm not dragging your sorry corpse back to Central if you die because you were an idiot."

Roy mustered up his best glare, though he had a feeling it was too marred by pain to be very effective. "Excuse me?"

Ed started ticking points of on his metal digits. Roy noticed his flesh hand quivering the faintest bit. "First you waltz into an obvious trap and almost get yourself blown to pieces, then you let Scar almost blow your face off, and now you're trying to walk yourself into the grave while you have a _broken rib!_"

Roy scowled. "If you hadn't gone gallivanting off into the woods on your own, none of that would have happened now, would it?"

"Are you seriously blaming me?! You were the one that ruined the food!"

"_Shush_, Fullmetal," Roy hissed. "Scar probably isn't that far behind us."

Ed casted a nervous glance back the way they had come and frowned. "Then we shouldn't stop in the open like this."

Roy stifled the urge to strangle the brat. "_You_ were the one that told me to stop," he said in a low, measured voice.

Ed just rolled his eyes. "It's nothing a little alchemy can't fix." Roy watched as he tried to get on his knees, moving in slow, deliberate motions, like he was in a great deal of pain. And was that sweat on his forehead? And he was shivering . . . Roy had been so busy tending to his own that he really hadn't noticed, and now he was berating himself for not picking up on it sooner.

"Fullmetal, I want a list of your injuries."

Ed gave him an irritated glance. "I'll be sure to include those in my report," he said, posed over the ground on all fours—or was it threes? — like some strange, off balanced table, eyes scanning the ground as he looked for something.

If there was one thing that really got on Roy's nerves, it was being brushed off. "_Now_, Fullmetal!" he barked.

Ed's eyes snapped to meet his, and Roy saw something flash through them. It was pain and despair and fear and it made Roy's insides crawl to see so much _self-loathing_ in those eyes.

"Ed?" Roy asked softly, as if anything harsher might scare him, shut him down completely.

Ed's gaze hardened, blocking him out, and he looked away. "Let me fix this, first," he murmured, turning back to the ground.

Roy relented, watching as he reared back, balanced awkwardly on one knee to clap his hands together, then fell back with a wince to press them against the ground.

The sound of alchemy whistled through the air and the earth underneath Roy's body shifted. Dirt and rocks moved as Ed opened a tunnel in the earth, packing and displacing until there was a small, dark opening leading underground, hidden behind a cluster of boulders.

Ed looked down at his handiwork with muted triumph on his face. "There, that should be good enough to hide us for a while." The cheer in his voice was forced and somehow wrong against what Roy had just witnessed in his eyes.

But Roy would admit it; such an alchemic exploit was impressive. To move that much earth without making so much as a mark on the surface . . . that was an incredibly difficult feat.

"Well, then, after you," Roy gestured. "If it's structurally unsound, you can be the one to get buried alive."

Roy was thankful to see the annoyed frown on the boy's face, even if it was a bit dimmed, it was normal and not so . . . _wrong_. "Some self-sacrificing superior _you_ are," Ed said, but he carefully dragged his lopsided body through the soil and through the opening headfirst, disappearing into the darkness with a wash of scrabbling, sliding dirt and muffled grunts.

Roy followed, dragging his legs around in front of him to slide in after the boy.

The earth sloped drastically, pulling him down much quicker and deeper than he had expected. He dug his hands into the earthen walls to try to gain some purchase, but the moist soil was too loose and he slid all the way to the bottom several feet down, where he landed completely on his injured side.

Sheer agony ripped through his body, momentarily blinding him. He gasped, clawing at the earth in a feeble attempt to ground himself as his vision darkened, his body threatening to pass out.

Despite how he fought against it, he must have lost consciousness anyhow, because the next thing he knew, he was no longer directly under the hole and was laid out somewhat comfortably against the wall of the alchemized cavern. The thin light filtering in was almost gone as dusk settled in the world above, filling the small space with a hushed sort of dimness. Everything was quiet, the thunder no longer rolling outside and only his pained breathing and the rustle of cloth broke the stillness.

He turned his head slowly to see Ed not two feet away, his shirt gone and leaning heavily against the cavern wall. He was grimacing silently as he examined something on his chest. As Roy squinted in the dimness, he saw that it was the stab wound from before amidst a canvas of fresh bruises, dried blood and old scars. The injury itself looked red and inflamed, stitches torn and bleeding a bit down his left side. The boy's skin glistened with sweat, his cheeks flushed and eyes much too glassy for Roy's liking. Shivers wracked his poor, beaten frame.

He must have felt Roy's eyes on him, for he looked up quickly, almost guiltily. He dropped his hands from his chest, wrapping them around himself and hiding the injury from Roy's view. "You're finally awake, huh?" he asked, his voice subdued and raspy. "You've been out for a while."

"How long?" he asked. Now that he thought about it, his own throat felt awfully dry. When had been the last time he drank anything? Hours ago?

Ed shrugged on shoulder. "An hour, maybe more."

It suddenly clicked in his mind that it was getting dark outside and Roy frowned up at the thinning daylight in frustration. He had wanted to get at least a little closer to Hughes and Alphonse before it got too dark. Well, it was too late to do anything about that now. "You moved me . . . how did you manage that?"

"Let me tell you, it wasn't easy," Ed assured him, some of the fire seeping back into his voice. It was good to hear. "You think _I'm_ heavy, you oversized excuse for a —"

"Just because you're short doesn't make everyone else oversized."

Ed scowled. "Shut it, Mustang."

The fact that Ed didn't rise to the bait as he normally did set Roy's instincts thrumming. He stared hard at the boy, his foggy mind trying to put all the pieces together. "That list of injuries?" he pressed.

Ed had obviously been hoping he'd forgotten. He looked away, suddenly finding the dirt underneath him to be of exceptional interest. "It's not a big deal, Mustang," he insisted, but it was token, more of a last ditch plea to get Roy to drop it.

What was he so worried about? Why was he going through all this trouble of acting like he was perfectly okay?

"Spill, Fullmetal."

Ed kept his eyes on the ground, looking much more ashamed than he should. "My chest . . . the fight with Scar yanked the stitches out. I think it may be getting infected . . ."

"Fever?"

Ed grimaced. "Starting to."

Roy stifled a curse. They were stuck in the middle of the woods in a fox hole, a murderer hot on their heels, backup far off, and medical help miles away. They had no food, no water, and even though the earth around them would help insulate them, it was about to get very cold.

They were in for a long night.

He sighed and leaned his head back against the dirt. "Well, this is shaping up to be a wonderful day." He gave himself a moment to prepare then slowly sat up, wincing and grimacing against the wave a pain with the motion. He then proceeded to drag himself to sit beside Ed. "Okay, let me see it."

"What? No way! I've got it under control!" Ed hissed, sliding away, but Roy's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Fullmetal, I'm tired, in pain, and about three seconds from throttling you and looking anyways," Roy growled. "Just let me see the stupid thing so I can make sure you're alright."

Roy saw a battle waging in those gold eyes, but the fire went out, as quickly as it had arrived and he slumped against the wall. "Whatever."

Roy didn't like how easy that was, like he almost had no fight left in him. Either he was really sick, or there was something else bothering him. Maybe both. Roy pulled the boy's arms down, leaning close in the waning light to get a look. "Something else on your mind, Fullmetal?"

Ed turned away, keeping his face trained resolutely on the opposite wall. "It's none of your business," he growled.

A thought struck Roy, a suspicion that only made more sense the longer he thought about it. "Is this about your last mission?" he asked, prodding the wound gently to make sure it wasn't oozing anything out of the ordinary.

Ed hissed, but Roy wasn't sure if it was from pain or the question. "Are you going deaf in your old age? I said it's none of your business!"

Roy didn't respond. Reminding the boy that he would have to turn in his report when they got back to Central and Roy would find out everything (or at least the parts Ed didn't edit out) anyways didn't seem like the best route to go. Maybe he would be more open to discussion when Roy wasn't poking at his inflamed injury. He didn't like how red and swollen the flesh around it was. It was definitely the beginnings of an infection, and if they weren't extremely careful, the injury was likely to go septic. There was no doubt in his mind that their swim in the river after having the stitches ripped out was to blame.

He glanced at the pile of bandages Ed had taken off, noting how they were sullied with mud and debris. They weren't going to be of much use, and Roy didn't have anything cleaner to offer him, either. It was probably better to let it air out than to smother it with more unclean material, but Roy wasn't sure.

"Well, the good news is it's not oozing," Roy offered, leaning back.

Ed seemed glad to have his personal space back. He settled against the wall, wrinkling his nose at the notion. "_Gross."_

Roy blinked, then burst into laughter, wincing as his own injury twinged, but unable to stop all the same.

Ed scowled. "What's so funny?"

Roy tried vainly to still himself, but it was just so . . . so _childish_. To hear such a word come from Ed's lips . . . it was so fitting, but unexpected all the same. "_Gross?"_ he chortled.

Ed looked bemused. "Yes, _gross_. Oozing is gross," he insisted.

Roy finally calmed his laughter, resituating himself against the wall. "It's nothing," he said around a smile. "Just never heard you say that before."

Ed rolled his eyes. "I think _you're_ the one that's sick, Mustang," he said, grabbing his shirt from the ground and carefully easing it over his head. The material snagged on his automail though, and he gingerly tried to wrestle it free with a growl of irritation.

Roy reached over and unhooked it from the wrist plate, allowing the fabric to slide down. Ed quickly yanked the shirt down, throwing him a look with the same, shamed expression he had before. He quickly turned away, situating the clothing around his frame and sliding a bit away from Roy.

Roy frowned at that. What had gotten into the kid? If it was what Roy was thinking and it had something to do with his most recent setback, Roy didn't understand the big deal. Not that it wasn't a big deal in itself, of course, but Ed and Al had suffered those before. Practically most of their lives have been a setback of some kind and it hadn't seemed to get to them all that much before. Al would respond with his usual optimism, and Ed with his brash determination. What had changed? What was so different this time?

Or maybe nothing had changed at all. Maybe Roy had just been blind for all these years. . .

"So, tell me," Roy began conversationally, "what happened while you two were up around the border?"

The silence that settled over them was thick and uncomfortable. Roy didn't want to be the first to break it, though. He would let Ed mull things over in his head until the discomfort grew too much for him. Roy was a patient man.

Ed, however, was not.

"I screwed it up again," Ed finally murmured.

His words surprised Roy. They were so . . . raw, so _broken_. There was more emotion in those five words than Roy had ever heard from Ed, and it disturbed him. Ed wasn't supposed to sound like that. He was supposed to be angry and enthusiastic, brash and exuberant.

But not broken. Never broken.

Even the first time he had seen the boy, crumpled and handicapped and lifeless in that wheelchair, Roy had noticed he had looked _wrong_. So wrong without the fire in his golden eyes, without the headstrong determination and a will stronger than any metal alchemy could forge.

As much as he wanted to say something, to comfort the boy, Roy kept his silence.

After what seemed an eternity, Ed continued, lips loosened by fever and overwhelming guilt. "We got so close . . . and I ruined it. I got stupid and let myself get stabbed . . . and Al's the one to suffer for it. He's always the one to suffer for it. Somehow I always screw everything up for him."

Roy frowned. No wonder he had been so reluctant to come forth with his injuries. They were what prevented him from getting to the Stone. He blamed himself for them. Blamed himself for setting them back, for not having Al in his human body right now. On top of that, though, he blamed himself for the way Alphonse was now, for their mother's death, and Roy even suspicioned his father's disappearance from their lives.

Roy absently wondered if there anything the kid _didn't_ blame himself for.

"Al doesn't blame you for that," Roy said carefully, as if the wrong words would shut him down.

Or make him turn on him. It took all Roy had not to flinch away in surprise as Ed rounded on him. _"I know that!" _he snarled, eyes flashing hot gold and words tearing the quiet apart like teeth shredding flesh. "You don't think I see that?! He's so much better than I am, better than anything I'll ever be! Why can't he just _hate_ me?! It's all I deserve but he's just . . . he's just too good for that," he said, voice softening as he turned his head away. "Too pure. It's something I'd do, but not him. He has every right to hate my guts, but he doesn't . . . not him."

Roy didn't think Ed was talking to him anymore. It was as if he had forgotten Roy was there entirely, feverish golden eyes staring blankly at the wall before him as shivers shook his body. "He doesn't need me, I just drag him down. It's _me_ that needs _him_. He's always been my conscience. He's . . . he's my heart." Ed suddenly smiled, in the most heartbreaking, self-depreciating manner Roy had ever seen. "Isn't that silly? He doesn't have a human body, but he has more heart than I'll ever have.

"And that's why . . . that's why I can't fail him. I'll do anything for him . . . I have to get his body back. I lost it in the first place, so I have to . . ." Ed's voice broke and he ducked his head. It was almost dark in the cavern now, almost too difficult to make out much of anything, but Roy heard the boy's shaky breathing and a stifled sob and his heart broke.

Roy had never heard Ed speak like that before. It was as if the fever had burned away his inhibitions and some of his pride, leaving raw emotion in its wake. Ed had so much on his shoulders that it made Roy wonder how he could stand it for so long without breaking.

And maybe he was breaking. Maybe that was what Roy was seeing; that wall finally crumbling under the strain of it all.

Roy had no words, and even if he did, he didn't think they would help. Instead, he reached out through the darkness, laying a hand on Ed's shivering shoulders. He wanted to think he was shaking from the fever, but some instinct told him that wasn't all there was to it. The muscles stiffened under his hand, but he didn't care. He pulled the boy close to him, Ed making a small noise of surprise as Roy held him against his side, indifferent to his own injury and just wanting to do _something_ to make Ed better, to help in some way.

To make him stop being so _broken_.

The child was stiff for a moment, whether in surprise or indignation, Roy couldn't be sure, but eventually he relaxed, his head dropping against Roy's shoulder. He had to be sick to have relented so easily. Roy could feel the fever burning in him, almost uncomfortably hot against his flesh, but that was of little importance.

No one said anything else, but Roy supposed no one needed to. Ed just leaned against him, taking shuddering breaths and leaving the place above Roy's chest conspicuously damp. Roy held him close, as if his arms could protect the boy from the weight of his conscience and the vicious thoughts that plagued him.

A brief doubt flashed through his mind; that this wasn't his place. He had no right to comfort this boy, the child he sent out on dangerous missions with nothing but a prayer that he would come back safely. He was partially to blame for Ed's state of mind right now. He had put too much stock in his abilities, in his skills and had almost forgotten to weigh in with the fact that Ed was a _child_. A child that acted like an adult, was more skilled than any adult, but he _wasn't_ one.

Sometimes it was so easy to forget . . .

Maybe he had no right. Maybe he was to blame more than anyone. Maybe if he had just been a little more sensitive, a little more supportive, then Ed wouldn't be like this right now. But he was, and Roy would rather burn alive than ignore it as he had so often in the past.

Ed needed him right now, and for once, he wasn't going to let him down.

Roy held him close and let him cry.

* * *

_This chapter was difficult . . . for more reasons than one. _

_If you couldn't tell by the title, this whole story was built around Ed saying, _"He's always been my conscience. He's . . . he's my heart." Ed suddenly smiled, in the most heartbreaking, self-depreciating manner Roy had ever seen. "Isn't that silly? He doesn't have a human body, but he has more heart than I'll ever have."

_The notion that Al serves as Ed's conscience on more than one occasion hit me one day, and this kind of bloomed from it._

_I know. My mind works in odd ways._

_I hope no one got too out of character. If Ed did, I'm blaming the fever xD And my poor sleep deprived brain. _

_Hope you enjoyed! Getting caught up responding to reviews from last time tonight. I can't begin to tell you how thrilled I am that you guys are enjoying this. Every single review and fav makes me scream inside like a little girl xD Thank you! 3 See you next update!_

_God Bless,_

_-RainFlame_


	6. Chapter 6

Honestly, Roy had slept better.

He had spent most of the night propped against the cavern walls in a light doze. One reason was the constant threat of Scar showing up at any moment. He honestly hoped the man was remotely human and needed sleep like everyone else. With any luck, he had bedded down somewhere for the night, but as Roy was starting to realize, luck was in short supply. He wasn't about to take any chances by letting the man catch them completely dead to the world.

The other reason his slumber had been so light was that Ed had fallen asleep on his shoulder, and eventually on his lap, the fever making him restless and sometimes downright violent. Roy had received an automail fist in his jaw for his trouble. Thankfully there wasn't much force in it, so there wouldn't be much more than a bruise, but it did nothing to improve Roy's sleep.

It was a long night, and Roy vaguely wondered if the sun would ever come up.

Eventually, morning came, and with it, the desperate need to keep moving. He didn't want to take Ed away from his much needed rest, but the sooner they got out of there, the sooner Ed could get the medical attention he so desperately needed.

Ed had his head cradled in Roy's lap, his braid frayed and spilling golden locks around him like some kind of disintegrating halo. At one point during the night Roy had shrugged out of his jacket and, torn and dirty as it was, put it over the boy. Ed had it pulled up to his chin, his small, shivering frame curled and hidden almost entirely underneath it. His face was still flushed and Roy could feel the heat of his fever burning through his trousers.

"Ed?" Roy asked, gently wrapping a hand on his automail shoulder and giving him a small shake. When that elicited no response, Roy moved his hand down to the hollow of his neck, past where metal met skin, and tried again. "Come on, Ed. We've got to go."

Ed's eyes cracked open, revealing bleary golden eyes as he stared at the far wall. "Huh?"

"Are you always this eloquent in the morning?" Roy asked with a smirk.

Ed drew his eyebrows together in a small frown not aimed at anyone in particular, but he didn't respond. It seemed as if he was trying to process where exactly he was and what was going on. Finally, his unfocused gaze landed on Roy and his frown only deepened. "Mustang?" he asked.

His eyes widened and he shot up, launching himself away from Roy like a scalded cat. That apparently wasn't a wise choice, because as soon as he was up, he fell heavily to one side with a groan.

"Fullmetal! What in heaven's name are you doing?!" Roy demanded, gingerly sliding over the ground to Ed's side.

Ed stared ahead with unfocused eyes, a dark frown on his flushed face. "What . . . was I doing . . . _on your lap?"_ came the weak, raspy question. Despite how frail his voice was, there was no mistaking the irritation in his tone. And embarrassment.

Somehow, Roy got the feeling Ed remembered exactly what had happened last night.

Either way, Roy was relieved to hear it. It meant that even though the boy was sick, he had some fight left in him. "Last I saw, you were sleeping. But that was before you decided to go flailing around the cavern like a depraved ballerina."

That only served to annoy and mortify Ed further. "Shut your trap, Mustang. Waking up next to you would freak anyone out."

"My, but we are grumpy this morning," Roy teased with a smirk. "Hold still," he ordered, lifting Ed's shirt to get another look at his wound.

Ed hissed and halfheartedly batted the hand away. "Leave it alone!" he growled, probably embarrassed enough as it was and wanting to further shield his pride from any more blows.

But Roy's concerns ranked a bit higher than the boy's pride and he gave Ed a stern look.

Ed seemed too exhausted to hold on to his indignant hostility any longer, and the irritation faded away, leaving weariness behind in his glassy eyes. That worried Roy. He dropped his hand and let Roy examine the injury with a resigned sigh. "So, what's the plan?" he asked, finally meeting Roy's gaze with muted gold. "Stagger around the forest until we find Al and Hughes?"

"While avoiding Scar at all costs," Roy confirmed, sobering as well. He didn't want to think about what would happen if they ran into the Ishvalan in the state they were in.

A feeble smirk crossed the blond's lips. "I've heard worse plans."

"I've heard better."

The wound was worse than before. If it were possible, the injury was even more swollen, red lines emanating from it like spider legs as the infection truly took hold. Infected material oozed from it in a slow stream when Roy pressed against it, eliciting a hiss of pain from the boy as he did.

Overall, though, the boy looked worse. The fever seemed even hotter than before, and a quick check of his pulse told him his heart rate was far more elevated than normal. Sweat plastered his hair around his face and Roy suppressed the urge to brush it out of the boy's eyes.

Roy was no expert, but he knew infections like this set in fast, and didn't take long to kill. And with it so close to his heart . . .

"How does it look?" Ed finally asked.

Roy wasn't sure how much he should say. "Well, the bad news is it's oozing."

Ed wrinkled his nose at the word and Roy smirked grimly at his reaction. "What's the good news?"

What was the good news? "You're still alive?" Roy immediately regretted the words, even as he said them. If that was the best he could come up with, how was that supposed to make Ed feel? Roy would be lying if he said Ed wasn't in a bad way, but sometimes the truth was much too cruel.

A weak, dark smirk passed over the boy's lips. Roy knew that he knew. "Grasping at straws now, huh?"

"Don't be ridiculous. You've survived worse," Roy said flippantly, but inside he was wincing.

Ed didn't respond. Roy glanced up at the daylight pouring through the hole, then wearily at the steep ramp leading up to it. "Think you can transmute us out of this hole?" Roy hated to bother Ed with it, but he wasn't certain he knew any alchemic formulas off the top of his head to accomplish what was needed to get them out.

Ed frowned. "Yeah, give me a minute."

It took Ed a few minutes to sit up, and from there, a few more to concentrate enough to make the transmutation that made the dirt underneath them rise up and through the "ceiling" of their hideaway. By the time they were up in the sunshine, Ed looked like he was ready to collapse from the exertion. Roy just managed to wrestle his uncooperative form onto his back again before the boy passed out on his shoulders.

Roy could still feel the fever burning even through the fabric of their shirts, and even in his sleep, Ed shivered against his back, his breathing quick and shallow in Roy's ear.

Roy awkwardly draped his jacket over the boy's small shoulders, and with as much haste as he could manage, started walking in what he prayed was the right way to Hughes and Alphonse. The stormy weather had finally abated, and the sun was out in the clear blue sky. Birds chirped and squirrels danced around tree trunks, but instead of lightening his spirits, it only served to remind him how hungry they both were. He wondered absently what it would take to catch one of those squirrels . . .

"Maybe if you stare at it hard enough, it'll come over and ask you to eat it."

Roy flinched at the sudden voice in his ear, but recovered quickly. "That would be very considerate of it," he agreed. "Don't tell me you're not starving."

He felt Ed begin to shrug, then apparently thought the better of it. "Nah, not really."

They hadn't eaten anything in over a day, and given Ed's voracious appetite, he should be as famished as Roy was, if not more so. That wasn't a good sign at all, and Roy tried to keep the concern out of his voice as he conversed with the kid.

Ed phased in and out of consciousness, sometimes warning Roy that he was about to pass out, and sometimes drifting off in the middle of a sentence as his tired, injured body warred against infection.

During the time Ed was out, Roy struggled to stay positive. Without the steady stream of conversation, the struggle of keeping Ed's spirits up, Roy's thoughts turned to dark places. He tried to talk himself out of the negative train of thought, reminding himself of all Ed had survived. If the boy could survive having two of his limbs torn off, automail surgery and rehabilitation, and more injuries than soldiers twice his age have seen, surely he could beat this. Surely this was nothing for the Fullmetal Alchemist. Surely after all of that, he would not be beaten by organisms too small for the human eye to see. Not Fullmetal. Not Ed.

A passing thought flew into Roy's mind: did all children make their parents worry so?

The thought was so unexpected, so out of the blue that Roy stumbled, barely catching himself before he and his fragile load went tumbling to the ground. He winced at the strain on his side, then again as the uncharacteristic thought echoed through his mind.

He casted a sidelong glance at the blonde head resting on his right shoulder, brows furrowed in unpleasant dreams.

Ed was nothing if not a disagreeable, rude, insufferable, snot-nosed brat. He was arrogant, headstrong and had a stubborn streak a mile wide. He didn't follow orders, he didn't even pretend that protocol mattered. He did things his own way, in his own time, and he was main cause of Roy's headaches these days.

So why did Roy care so much?

It didn't start out that way. That wasn't the reason Roy had torn apart files and records, searching out the Elric brothers, the children of Hoenheim. It had been a matter of business, another stepping stone in his journey to become Feuhrer. He was after the glory of discovering possibly one of the greatest assets to the military.

He hadn't been expecting to find children. He hadn't been expecting one in a seven-foot suite of armor, the other a broken heap in a wheelchair.

They had shown up at Eastern Command, and Roy was certain he had made the biggest mistake of his military career. Sure, the boy had skill, undeniable talent and abilities that would rival that of a seasoned warrior. He could thrash a man twice his size and debate ideas and theories with some of the greatest academic minds.

But all that aside, Roy could have killed him. He refused to follow even the simplest of orders, fought authority every step of the way, and left nothing but destruction in his wake, causing Roy more paperwork than he thought possible. He butted heads with anyone in charge and seemed to make it his personal mission to make Roy's life miserable.

But over time, they had come to know each other, and Roy found something that surprised him.

Ed may have been rude and brash, with a violent temper and an oversensitivity to the word "short," but Roy quickly found out that there was much more to him than that. The boy had a terribly strong sense of right and wrong, and though it didn't always align with Roy's, it was unshakable. He had seen Ed drop everything to help a friend, seen him fight for people he didn't even like, and though he professed Roy to be at the very top of that list, Roy had heard him defending his reputation to those that questioned it.

And Roy found himself worrying about Ed and his brother. He wanted to help them. He wanted them to get their bodies back, to see them happy and successful. Even when it meant Roy had to discipline Ed when he misbehaved, or talk to him when he acted less than he was, because that's what superiors were supposed to do for their subordinates.

That was what fathers did for their children.

"Colonel?"

Roy winced, some irrational part of him afraid the boy had somehow been listening to his thoughts. "Yes, Fullmetal?"

"Do you hear that?"

Roy paused, stopping in his tracks to listen and his blood ran cold.

It was far in the distance, barely distinguishable over the wind rusting in the trees and the birds chirping, but he heard it; the high shriek of alchemy, the rumblings of earth moving.

Scar.

Hughes and Al.

Roy was wary of tempting fate, but he ventured to guess that this trip could not possibly get any worse.

With a weary, terrified, pained grunt, Roy rushed forward, moving as fast as his weak, injured body could carry them. His side cried out from the abuse, and his knees weren't much happier about it, but that wasn't something that could be allowed to slow him.

Hughes was no alchemist. Sure, he was quick and agile and could throw a knife almost twenty feet with incredible accuracy, but Scar could tear him apart from four times the distance. The thought of his best friend going up against a monster like that terrified him.

And Alphonse. Sure the armor could take an incredible amount of damage, but Scar didn't have to destroy the armor to kill the boy. He just had to hit one, tiny little blood seal.

"Is it Scar?" Ed asked, but Roy could tell by his tone that he knew the answer to that question. The exhaustion was so evident in his voice, but Roy felt him tense against him, limbs readying for a battle his body had nothing left to fight with.

"I'm hurrying," was his only breathless response. It wasn't necessarily that he had much left to fight with either, but he wasn't about to let Hughes and Al go up against Scar by themselves.

His feet ate up the damp ground, and as he clumsily loped over fallen branches and rotting pine needles, he pulled his dried gloves from his breast pocket and put them on.

"Can you go any faster?" Ed asked, obviously trying his hardest not to sound impatient, but failing as worry for his brother seeped into his voice.

"As fast as I can without dropping you," he assured him, starting to sweat profusely under the strain.

There was a pause, then Ed said, "Drop me."

Roy almost tripped again. "What?" he asked, certain he had misheard something.

"Drop me."

"Ed, I'm not going to just—"

"Colonel, I'm serious!" he said, voice brimming with hot determination. Roy couldn't see his eyes, but he was sure they were burning, too. "You . . . you're in better shape than me," he said, his voice hushed now, frightening Roy with its steady resolve. "And Al's there . . . you can get there and help if you just drop me."

"Fullmetal, I'm not going to drop you," Roy snarled, not liking the boy's tone in the least.

"Colonel, I will do my best to get there as fast as I can, but I need you to look after Al for me. I . . . I can't right now, Colonel, _please_."

And in those few moments, Ed sounded a hundred years old. He sounded worn and tired and in pain, but fully believing that he was right. He sounded like a boy that would put his pride on the line for his little brother.

No, he sounded like a man.

While Roy was terrified of leaving Ed behind, all on his own, Roy was fiercely proud. This wasn't the brat that slammed doors in his office, refused to drink milk, and made prank calls to Havoc's girlfriends. This was the boy that gave his arm for his brother, that decided to sacrifice himself to become a dog of the military to fix his mistakes.

Roy couldn't have been prouder if Ed were his own son.

Though he hated it, fought against the motion with every protective fiber of his being, he stopped and gently lowered Ed to the ground. The boy landed with a grimace, letting out a low hiss as he dragged himself with his arms to lean against the nearest tree. Roy stayed where he was, crouched next to the ground and regarding the boy with a worried gaze.

"Ed, are you going to be alright?"

A cocky smirk pulled at the boy's lips, a hint of his old self shining through on his sweat streaked face. "Of course I will," he said, clapping his hands together and placing them on the tree. Alchemy whined and blue energy flared as he drew a short crutch out of the tree's bark, then another soon after it. "Just give me a hand up."

Roy took the automail hand he offered out and hoisted Ed to his foot. The boy balanced there precariously on both the props and his only foot. He looked so frail, so small, wavering there with one leg gone and sicker than Roy had ever seen. But despite that, he radiated strength in a way Roy couldn't understand, much less explain. He met Roy's gaze, golden eyes burning with resolve. "Help Hughes, Colonel. And keep my brother safe."

Roy smirked, blinking quickly as his eyes stung with sudden heat. "You bet, kid."

He didn't give Ed time to respond, because if he waited any longer, he wasn't sure he would be able to walk away. He turned away and ran, as fast as his side would allow. He ran toward Hughes and Al, towards Scar.

And prayed he had made the right decision.

* * *

_This chapter could be complete drivel . . . I haven't decided yet haha :'D Either way, some of these things had to be said, and it was essential for plot, so I don't feel too bad about it xD_

_Besides, to see Edo all grown-up acting here . . . ;_; Mustang must be so proud! (And he is xD)._

_Shall respond to all the signed reviews from last time today/tomorrow. Thanks to everyone here from the get go for your continued support, and for all of you new folks, welcome aboard! Hope you're having as much fun as I am C: See you next chapter!_

_God Bless,_

_-RainFlame_


	7. Chapter 7

Roy tore through the forest in a hobbling sprint, constantly listening for the sounds of battle and adjusting his course accordingly.

He was doing all in his power to keep the image of Ed, standing in the woods alone, sick and injured, out of his mind.

It wasn't as far away as he had thought; the forest must have distorted the noise, for it wasn't ten minutes before he tore into the clearing, right back at the river.

The place looked like ground zero for the apocalypse, as if giant hands had reached down from the heavens and tore the earth asunder. Nothing was as it should be, with trees and rocks shattered, plates of earth slicing through the water's surface, and river stones transformed into sharp spikes.

He quickly located Alphonse, caught in dangerous close combat with Scar. The boy's armor was a mass of dents, and part of his breastplate was simply missing, but as Ed had often bragged, Alphonse was a skilled martial artist and was holding off the older man well. The Ishvalan looked worse for wear, which Roy was fleetingly thankful for. Blood trailed down his forehead from a gash somewhere above his hairline. His clothing was in tatters, the tattooed arm now clearly visible beneath the scraps of his sleeve. A small dagger glinted from where it was embedded in his right shoulder, but he seemed oblivious to it as he parried a strike from Al and shoved his hand forward to get at the boy. Al deflected it smoothly, retaliating with a bone-shattering kick that sent Scar flying.

After another quick scan of the clearing, Roy's eyes fell on a crumpled form on the far side of the river. Maes was lying, face down on a slab of rock, blood smeared down the back of his green sweater. He wasn't moving.

And something inside Roy snapped.

He had traveled out to the wilderness with two teenagers desperate for some sense of stability in their lives, and his best friend, a young father with an adoring wife and beautiful baby girl. Ed was a broken mess, but he was a good kid, always trying to do the right thing, always being "thou for the people." Alphonse had his childhood ripped away, but he had a heart of gold, never a selfish thought in his mind. Hughes was the most generous, caring man Roy knew, every action done for the good of someone else.

_What made Scar think he had the _right_ to tear these people away from _him_?_

Roy deserved it, no doubt in his mind. If anyone should have been destroyed for their sins, it was him, and if Roy thought it would help, that it would end the violence and the conflict once and for all, he would give his life in a heartbeat.

But his death would solve nothing. His life was far more valuable in the long run, and right now, it was needed to protect those depending on him.

With a fire that had nothing to do with alchemy burning away at his insides, Roy lunged forward.

The water was made shallow by the alchemic chaos, and Roy sprinted across it, the pain in his side momentarily forgotten as he saw Scar scrambling to his feet and heading for Alphonse. With all the confidence of a man with someone to protect, Roy stepped into his path.

For a moment, his gaze locked with the Ishvalan's, seeing the surprise in his eyes before a dark, consuming fury engulfed them.

Then Roy raised a gloved hand and snapped.

Fire sparked and he bent the flames to his will, sending a sharp current of golden inferno at the Ishvalan's face. With a snarl of frustration, Scar rolled to the side, planting his tattooed hand on the ground as he did. The earth rippled and a sea of spikes shot up through the soil, intercepting his fire and tearing toward Roy at an alarming speed.

Roy was faintly aware of Alphonse screaming his name, but he had little attention to spare for the interruption. He leapt out of the spiked earth's trajectory, dodging the attack but landing himself in a new set of troubles.

His foot landed on a river stone.

A very _slippery_ river stone.

Roy went down hard, falling into the knee-high water. His side suddenly reminded him that he had a broken rib (as if he had forgotten) and his vision tunneled momentarily. He was only able to see Scar, running right toward him, ready to do him in.

Until someone stepped in front of him, squared his stance and let fly three knives. Scar grunted as one planted itself in his tattooed arm, then veered off and disappeared into the brush.

If Roy had possessed any breath left in him, he might have cried out in relief. Maes turned around, glasses missing, blood covering the side of his face and holding one arm protectively close to his body. But his green eyes locked with Roy's and a fierce grin split is face. "Glad you could make it, Roy!"

"I couldn't let you have all the fun," Roy shot back, unable to help the grin of his own from spreading over his face.

Alphonse stepped up, the eleven year old boy towering over the both of them. He offered an enormous hand out to Roy. "Where's Ed?" he asked, voice tight with worry.

"He's coming," Roy assured him, but his voice didn't even sound confident to his own ears as he allowed Al to hoist him up with only minimal pain.

What if something happened to Ed? There was no way he could defend himself in the state he was in. Or what if his heart simply stopped? With severe infections that was always a possibility . . .

"Colonel?" Al pressed, obviously not reassured by Roy's words.

Roy shook his head, eyes snapping forward as something in the undergrowth stirred. "Not now, Alphonse. Right now we have bigger things to worry about."

Almost before he had finished his sentence, Scar charged out of the brush, arm raised and a crazed gleam in his eyes and there was no more time for words.

* * *

Worry gnawed away at his insides, making him feel even sicker than before. His little brother, out there fighting Scar . . . Hughes and Mustang, too, and the Idiot Colonel was injured . . .

He forcibly removed the thoughts from his mind. They weren't helping, and in fact, were distracting. He struggled to find something productive to occupy his mind and decided his balance was worth devoting the attention to, giving the way he swayed dangerously where he stood, even with the aid of two crutches.

The thing people didn't get about having one leg is that moving around is _hard_.

Oh, sure, he could sort of hop around on it by itself . . . for maybe two seconds until the laws of gravity took the wind out of his sails and sent him crashing down. There was something so fundamentally necessary about having two legs to get around. Even if one of them was barely functional, at least its weight would have been there to stabilize him. Despite having two crutches, there was an essential elemental of balance missing.

That, coupled with Ed's swimming vision and his aching body, was enough to make him want to find someplace nice and quiet to curl up and die.

Unfortunately, that wasn't an option.

Mustang had disappeared into the forest, quickly getting lost in the sea of trees before Ed so much as managed a step forward.

With a shaky breath, Ed swung the crutches forward, planting them in the ground before dragging his quivering body after them. His chest heaved with the exertion and he had to stop for a second, panting and blinking sweat from his eyes. A weak, sardonic smile flitted across his lips before exhaustion wiped it away.

_Piece of cake. One down, a few thousand more to go . . ._

If the circumstances weren't so dire, Ed would have found the whole situation incredibly funny. They were on a camping trip in the middle of nowhere, being chased around by a murderous psycho, and Ed was staggering around right in the middle of it with a missing leg and infection. Perhaps it was the fever talking, but it was so ridiculous Ed couldn't help but find it amusing.

_Definitely the fever talking._

Ed wasn't sure how long he hobbled along. It couldn't have been for that long, because he could clearly hear the sounds of battle still echoing through the forest, growing louder with each passing moment. Then again, he was having a hard time grasping concepts as advanced as "time" right now. It could have been seconds or hours, as far as he could tell, so focused as he was on _moving_.

Some completely detached part of him breathed a sigh of relief when he arrived.

But that breath caught when he stepped into the clearing.

His golden eyes widened, surveying the destruction with a sudden rush of clarity, everything coming into sharp focus as his adrenaline spiked.

He saw Hughes, hovering over Mustang in the shallow water. The Colonel's hands were pressed against his leg where his trousers were soaked in blood, the river flowing away from him in a tide of red. His face was deathly pale, eyes clouded with pain. Hughes didn't look to be in much better shape, but he was tearing off strips of sweater from his own bloodied torso, trying to staunch his best friend's bleeding.

And in front of them was Alphonse. He stood protectively before them, and even without a face, Ed could tell he was terrified, but determined. Part of his chest plate was gone, and half of one arm was missing, but he held his ground, his only operable arm raised defensively as Scar loomed before him, tattooed arm held high. Ed's vision tunneled and his breathing stopped.

That was . . . his little brother . . _. Al . . ._

Ed wasn't about to let him go up against that monster by himself.

_"SCAR!"_ he snarled, voice shaking with fear and rage as he threw his voice across the river. The Ishvalan jerked back, turning to stare at Ed with surprised red eyes. "GET AWAY FROM HIM! IT'S ME YOU WANT! _COME GET ME!"_

"BROTHER!" Alphonse's voice rang out, relief and terror battling for dominance in that one word. He was afraid for Ed, but so relieved that he had come, that he was safe.

Maybe his voice even possessing the barest hint of hope that he wouldn't die here, alone. Not now that his big brother was there. Ed wasn't about to let him down.

The Ishvalan turned away from Al, and Ed almost collapsed in relief.

Then he started to walk toward him, and Ed had the sudden realization that he was _screwed_.

His body would not hold out very long, not in this state. He couldn't run, he couldn't fight. He might as well slit his own throat and save Scar the trouble. But maybe he didn't need to hold out long. Maybe he could distract Scar long enough for his brother, Hughes and Mustang to get away.

He had made a promise to Al; a promise that he would do anything to get his body back, even if he couldn't be there to witness it. In the wake of such a promise, even his own life was forfeit. And that was fine with him.

Anything for Al. Anything for his little brother.

"Al, take them and run!" Ed shouted, staggering back a few paces, even as Scar closed in on him. He almost fell, his crutch catching on the roots of a bush as he retreated into the forest, but that didn't even slow the Ishvalan. He continued forward, splashing through the water with the confident ease of a predator that knew his prey wasn't going anywhere fast.

Ed had to stop, securing his crutches beneath his arm to clap his hands and almost toppled over as he bent to touch the ground. It was a complicated formula that, combined with bending upside down, left his head reeling as he forced the ground to relinquish its sparse metals to him. He drew out two, long double-bladed swords with a bar joining the blades, formed so that they could be wielded as weapons, and propped under his arms to move. Cumbersome, and not highly effective, but much more versatile than the wooden crutches.

Ed threw the wooden ones aside and replaced them with the metal constructs in time to meet Scar. The man eyed him for a moment, something flashing through his eyes. Almost a hesitance, as if it were dawning on him that this wasn't a fair match, that this was wrong on multiple levels, and Ed found himself vainly hoping that the man would take his grudges and walk away.

But then it was gone. As quick as it had appeared, those eyes hardened again into grim determination and he stepped forward.

Ed thought he heard someone cry out, and it took him a second to realize it was himself, as he pivoted back on one bladed crutch to raise the other, taking a clumsy swipe at Scar. The man easily dodged it, wrapping one bare hand around the blade and yanking it clean from Ed's grip, leaving a trail of blood down its sharp edge.

_Crap._

Scar threw it aside with contempt and stalked closer. Ed backed away, now even slower than before, his mobility even further reduced as he scrambled back, somehow turned around and headed up river on the sandy bank.

And he found it infuriating that Scar wasn't even hurried about his attacks. Scar came toward him, red eyes furious and calculating, steps steady and slow. Like a cat toying with a mouse. He was not the least bit concerned that Ed was going anywhere, or that he was even posing much of a threat.

He was pathetic. He was useless and hurting and _he was so screwed._

He gritted his teeth, sparing a glance to the side. Alphonse was trying to hoist up Mustang in one arm, his soul-fire eyes glancing from the man before him to his brother with varying degrees of panic. Hughes was doing the same thing while trying to stabilize the Colonel, looking to be about two seconds from dropping him and running to Ed's aid.

_Please don't. Please just run; take them and run. Don't make this harder than it already is._

Suddenly, he lost his footing, and he knew it was over. He hit the ground hard and his body sang with pain, vision spinning and chest throbbing.

He was so tired_. So tired._

Scar stood above him, staring down with an unreadable expression on his stony face. Ed weakly raised his remaining weapon, but Scar batted it away, almost casually. It flew from his hand and Ed could only stare. "I'm sorry," Scar murmured, his deep voice brimming with something Ed couldn't place. Regret? Resolve? "I wish it didn't have to be this way."

It didn't, but Ed couldn't bring himself to argue the point. All of his energy had been spent, every last bit. He did all he could, and he had nothing left. Nothing but his life, and even his own treacherous body seemed out to end that.

_I'm sorry, Al._

"I'll give you a moment to pray," Scar said, kneeling down over his prone form.

Ed leaned back into the dirt, cold filling his veins. He didn't have the strength to raise his hand, much less defend himself. It was over and he knew it. He closed his eyes.

He wondered if Al could forgive him.

He wondered if his mother would recognize him.

He wondered if this was what peace felt like. He had so much left to do, so many promises not kept and goals left to achieve, but he had done the best he could. That was enough, wasn't it? That should be enough.

And, to his surprise, he found himself praying.

Then he felt a warm hand on his forehead, felt the air shift around him and heard the crackle of alchemy.

He felt peace.

He thought he heard someone screaming his name. Then the pressure on his head was gone and everything shattered.

He couldn't help it. He opened his eyes.

He saw metal. Thousands of bits of metal, flying through the air, catching the sun and sparkling bright. It seemed suspended in the air above him, as if gravity had stopped working. It was almost beautiful, almost mesmerizing.

Until he saw the scraps of lavender cloth amongst the debris, the long trails of silvery hair floating in the mass. The helmet flying, inches from his face, red soul-fire eyes holding his gaze for a fleeting eternity, conveying to him an apology and a brother's love, before dimming away into emptiness.

Al.

Alphonse.

His little brother.

_He was gone._

Someone, somewhere was screaming. Maybe it was him.

One moment, Ed was frozen, unable to think, unable to_ breathe_.

Then he found himself on Scar, the surprised man folding completely under his weight. Ed wasn't thinking. He saw red, the color of Al's soul, of life and love and _blood_. He saw blood. He didn't know who's it was, his or Scar's, but there wasn't enough of it. Not near enough. His fists were flying, beating in Scar's face, the automail and flesh tearing at the man, tearing him to shreds.

Al was dead. Al was dead, and so was Ed.

His soul had left with Al's.

Not near enough blood.

And then his automail was a blade, and it was against the Ishvalan's throat.

Ed had never killed, had never ended a life before.

But he would. Because Al was gone.

For Al. He would kill for Al, some fractured part of his brain believing that that would somehow help. That Equivalent Exchange wouldn't fail him, not now. Not when everything else had.

Besides, with his soul forfeit, he had nothing left to lose.

He raised the blade.

_"Brother, STOP!"_

Ed's world stopped. Time stopped, those words ringing in his head, suspended before him like leaves in the breeze, a gentle snow drifting slowly to the ground. Everything was gone in their wake.

That voice . . . _that voice . . ._

"Al?" he heard himself whimper, his voice frail and shaking and he turned his head, searching. Searching frantically, hoping against hope that that voice wasn't some kind of hallucination, that it was _real._

"_Brother_, don't do it! I'm okay! I'm here!"

Ed crawled off of Scar's unconscious form, barely noting the blood, all over his hands, his clothes. He trailed it behind him, crawling forward, still searching.

And he found it, in the dirt surrounded by fragments and rocks. That scrap of metal, smeared with his blood. His brother's soul.

He had found it.

Al was okay. He was alive.

Ed was sobbing, he knew it in some far off corner of his brain. He knew he was shaking. He knew he was bleeding and possibly dying, but _Al was alive_. Nothing else mattered. Nothing in the world.

"Brother?" Al's quaking voice asked. "Are you okay?"

Ed couldn't speak. He didn't have the strength or the means. He picked up the plate of metal, the precious metal, cradling against him like a newborn, curling his mess of a body around it.

"Brother?"

Ed let lose a choked sob and collapsed in the dirt, holding his brother to his chest as darkness claimed him.

* * *

_Whew. So much action lol :'D I hope you thought it was intense. I thought it was intense lol xD_

_I can't believe the support I've gotten from you guys. Thank you so much for the reviews, the favs, and for just reading! I've told you almost every chapter, but you guys are phenomenal! Your feedback really helps me focus and get this stuff written, so thank you! Only one more chapter after this!_

_If you care to, drop a review and I'll see you next chapter ;)_

_God Bless,_

_-RainFlame_


	8. Chapter 8

Normal people would be completely unconscious after trauma like that. Normal people didn't shift and stare and hold onto scraps of metal so impossibly tight after experiences like that.

But Ed had proven time and time again that he wasn't normal.

His eyes were open by the time Hughes and Roy were able to reach his side, blank gold circles that stared at something neither man could see. Roy could make out a plate of metal in the boys hands, pressed to his chest tight enough to turn his knuckles white, but gently enough to not damage the precious blood seal there.

And of blood . . . there was so much of it, and no way to tell who it belonged to. Scar was a mutilated mess lying in the dirt, covered in swollen bruises, deep gashes and red fluid. Roy transmuted the man's unconscious form to a tree, unwilling and unable to deal with him at the time. He turned away from him in complete and utter contempt. Perhaps it was wrong, but they had enough on their plate without worrying about moving him, too, and he was predominately responsible for what lay before them.

Ed looked even worse than Scar, but maybe that was because he was just so _small_. His face, while devoid of any active emotion, was infused with muted horror and glazed pain on a canvas of blood and bruises.

Roy never wanted to see that look on his face ever again.

It had taken hours for Hughes to gather up the pieces of Al's armor, and since Roy was mostly unable to help, he had spent the time trying to keep Al calm and bring Ed out of his shock, but both attempts failed miserably. Ed was completely unresponsive, and Al was a gibbering wreck.

Once Hughes had gathered all the metal he could and piled it at Roy's feet, Roy transmuted the scraps into a metal cart. He wasn't about to risk transmuting it back into a suit of armor. It was much too delicate for someone such as him to attempt, and besides, they needed the transportation more than they needed Al's substitute body. Hughes and Roy had loaded Ed and Al onto it and it was all Roy could do to hobble along on a transmuted crutch as Maes pulled the cart all the way back to New Optain.

It had taken the rest of the day and part of the night, but they finally arrived at the hospital.

Ed had immediately been rushed to the ICU. Roy managed to pry the plate of metal from his death grip before he was sent off, much to Al's protest, but Roy wasn't about to take chances that the hospital staff would inadvertently destroy or discard what they saw as a piece of debris, and he knew that the last thing the boys needed at this point was to have their greatest sin exposed by the gossip of nurses.

Hughes was treated for dehydration, a sprained muscle in his arm and had the gash on his head and several deep lacerations in his back sewn up. The man was completely and utterly exhausted and barely standing by the time the doctor was through with him, and it was no wonder.

Roy himself was about as well off; he had his chest wrapped, his leg wound cleaned and sewn shut, and was given fluids and blessed pain killers. Though he was dead on his feet, he had business to conduct, so he relinquished the soul to Hughes' care, but just before he was about to find a phone, he was introduced to his night nurse. She was a brute of a woman, as big as Armstrong, and scarier than Hawkeye, and Roy didn't dare argue with her about their destination when she wheeled him to his private room with gruff orders to eat his dinner and sleep.

He quickly inhaled his meal, and once the woman had left, managed to get the attention of a cute nurse roaming the halls. It didn't take too much effort to convince her to help him back into his wheelchair, and it only took a disarming smile to find out where the nearest phone was.

After several phone calls to the local military outpost to start the search for Scar, and a quick call to Hawkeye, he was discovered by his beloved night nurse and none too gently ushered back to his room. She threatened to tear his stitches out one by one if he didn't stay put this time, so Roy put aside all thoughts of further escapades and tried to sleep.

Despite how tired he was, he was too anxious to do much more than doze, and after a long, restless morning, the day shift finally took over. His day nurse was a pretty young girl with a gentle, maternal nature, and Roy was much more comfortable about being persuasive and demanding when he wasn't worried about having his stitches ripped out. He finally got some answers about Ed and would be allowed to see him as soon as he woke up.

It was almost lunch when Roy got the word. He felt a bit guilty about being allowed to see Ed before his little brother, but it couldn't be helped at the moment. He allowed the nurse to wheel him down the hall to Ed's room, then dismissed her at the door.

It eerily reminded him of just the week before, when he had gone to visit the boy in the hospital in Central.

The lights were off, the only illumination coming from the bright sun that slanted through the large windows, bathing the room in a warm glow. The small lump on the bed was turned on its side, facing out the window. Roy didn't know he could get so much comfort by just watching the rise and fall of the blankets as the boy breathed in and out, simple proof that he was alive.

"Are you going to come in, or just sit there in the doorway like an idiot?"

Roy blinked, only just noticing the gold eye slanted to peer over his body and back toward Roy.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he reached to grip the wheels of his chair and rolled himself across the tiny room to sit at the bedside. "You always wake up in such fine moods, Fullmetal," he teased, leaning forward to gingerly prop his elbow on the bed. The movement didn't pain his side too much, but he expected that was the glorious painkillers at work.

Ed rolled over carefully to give him a withering look. "My _moods_ are directly related to your proximity," he growled.

"Careful, Fullmetal. Remember what I told you about using words that are too _big _for you?"

Roy delighted in the way Ed clenched his teeth and scowled, not just from the way it annoyed him, but from how wonderfully normal it was. "I'm _not_ short! And I'm a genius! I can use all the big words I want!"

Roy kept his smirk firmly in place. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine. You took Al from me. Where is he?"

Roy was wondering when that question was going to come up. "He's with Hughes. I'll tell the nurse to bring them down in a minute," Roy assured him.

The boy nodded and tension that Roy hadn't even noticed was there slowly melted away. "Good. That's good," he said, some of the strain gone from his voice as he turned his gaze up to the ceiling.

Roy studied him in the afternoon light. He looked pale, but he was no longer flushed with fever. His golden hair was clean and had some of its shine back, splayed across the pillow in a vibrant wave. An IV ran down to where it was taped to his wrist, and he was covered in swathes of bandages from what he could see of the boy. Mostly, the kid just looked worn and weary.

Something else was there, though. A cloud that seemed to hover, dark and bitter, just behind his eyes.

"What's on your mind?"

Ed scowled, keeping his eyes obstinately on the ceiling. "None of your business," he said.

Roy sighed, leaning back in his chair. What a stubborn brat. He wracked his mind for something that could be eating him, but there were too many things to narrow down: losing a leg, fever, being lost in the woods, fighting Scar, seeing his little brother ripped to shreds, almost killing Scar . . .

Wait . . .

Roy remembered staring out across the river to see Al's armor being shattered by Scar's twisted alchemy. He saw Ed freeze for just a split second before he launched himself into the air and landed on Scar, beating and thrashing him to a bloody pulp. He remembered the way Ed had turned his automail into a blade and had almost cut the man's throat before his little brother had stopped him.

For Ed, that was about as traumatic as it got.

"Does this have to do with Scar?"

The tightening at the corner of his eyes gave him away. "Why do you have to be so nosy?" he demanded with false anger, rolling over away from Roy to stare out the window. "Don't you have nurses to flirt with or something?"

Perhaps it _was_ nosy of him, but he had been in Ed's shoes before, so to speak. The first time he had killed someone, he was a haunted wreck for days. Ed may not have done the deed, but he had such high standards for himself that he probably felt like he had.

"I almost killed him."

The words were so sudden and quiet, barely a whisper, and Roy almost missed them entirely. He focused on Ed again and saw the tight tension in his shoulders as he stared out the window.

"But you didn't," Roy pointed out carefully, remembering the results the last time he had pushed the boy for an explanation. The outburst he had almost been expecting didn't come, though.

"But I _wanted_ to," he murmured instead, voice weak and lifeless with an undercurrent of remorse. "That's what matters."

Roy wasn't good at this, but he couldn't stand to hear so much guilt and self-loathing coming from someone so young. Someone so undeserving. "Why?"

Ed shifted, rolling back over on his back to stare at the ceiling, golden eyes anguished. "Because . . . because he had killed— I thought he killed Al," his voice broke and his eyes suddenly glistened. He blinked quickly. "I thought he took my little brother from me. A life for a life. That's equivalency, right?" Roy knew he wasn't really expecting an answer, so he kept silent, waiting. Ed continued after a moment, jaw tightening. "But it's not . . . that wouldn't have helped, it wouldn't have made anything better. It would have just caused more pain, but I didn't think of that. I just wanted him dead and Al back."

"So," Roy said after a silence. "What stopped you?"

"Al," he whispered. "He must think I'm a monster . . . I've never killed anyone before, and I almost slaughtered Scar, right in front of my little brother." A weak, humorless laugh shook his frame. "Some big brother I am. I really _am_ a monster."

That explained why he hadn't asked for Al sooner. He didn't want to face him, afraid of what he would think, how he would react.

"Well, maybe that's the thing about people like us," Roy said. Ed glanced at him with thinly veiled curiously. Roy interpreted it as a sign to continue and pressed on. "We want to do the right thing. We want to make the world a better place, but sometimes we do things; things that are contemptible and disgraceful, and we do it for the right reasons, but somewhere along the line, we've lost sight of the goal. We compromise, we take short cuts, we get our hands dirty and we lose sight of what's important.

"But that's why you need a heart. We need those people in our lives that know us, that know us better than we know ourselves. Someone we want to impress and protect more than anyone in the world. Someone who knows you would do anything for them, but loves you enough not to let you. People like Al."

And Roy saw something in Ed's eyes brighten, a spark that had been missing for days. It was like the curtains finally being pulled aside to let the sun in, and Roy had missed it. "That's the cheesiest load of crap I've ever heard, Mustang," he said, a broad grin spreading across his face.

Roy smirked. "Maybe it was just too long for your _short_ attention span."

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SHORT?!"

The day passed in lazy splendor. Hughes and Al eventually stopped by, and they shared the afternoon in the tiny room, reveling in each other's company. Roy sat back and watched them bicker, laugh and shout and he was content.

It was people like them, the ones that toed the line between light and dark, that give up their hearts to battle that darkness so the people they loved didn't have to; they were the ones that needed a heart the most. The people they loved became their hearts, their consciences. They were the ones that kept them from being monsters. They may get close, but if they kept those people near, they would always make it back out to the light.

Ed would be alright. As long as he had Al, he would be just fine.

As long as he had his heart.

_Fin_

* * *

_ IT IS DONE! *collapses*_

_Hope you brought your crackers for all that cheese xD But I guess when you title your fic "Heart," it's bound to get a little cheesy lol._

_I hope the ending didn't seem too rushed. It was a bit of a struggle to get it right, you know? Hope it was alright :'D_

_Some much needed thanks: to everyone who reviewed, thank you so much! I've said it practically every chapter, but your encouragement has really helped me get this written, so thank you :) To everyone who faved and just read this, thank you for stopping by and giving your time to read :) I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it 3_

_You guys are the best, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise ;)_

_Now that this fic is over, I have started a new FMA fic! The first chapter of __**Stairway to Paradise**__ is up, so if you'd like, go check it out and you can join me for another round ;) *shameless self-promotion is shameless*_

_See you next time!_

_God Bless,_

_-RainFlame_


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